


Red Sunrise

by MadamSnark



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantastic Racism, Friendship, Growing Up, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14272641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamSnark/pseuds/MadamSnark
Summary: An elven girl who grew up playing by the docks is swept into a war when a rash act of loyalty brings her to the attention of enemies and strangers alike. Elves have always been resilient: like weeds, they can spring through the cracks in the stone and thrive in the most unlikely conditions, and Kallian Tabris is no exception. But a storm is on the horizon, trust is difficult to come by, and love was never meant to be an option. As Kallian struggles to grow into the role she's thrust into, the support of only a few close companions might be the difference between stopping the Blight or the end of the world."And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering.”





	1. A Day for Celebration

The human was none the wiser when his belt become just a few coins lighter, oblivious to the blonde elf behind him already weaving away through the crowd with newly acquired coin in hand. No more than five seconds later was he reaching into his pouch only to find that the very pouch had been plucked away.

Kallian snickered at the outcry when he tried to pay for goods and turned up empty handed. Slowing her pace to a casual walk behind a human woman, she kept her head ducked, hair behind her pointed ears, acting the unassuming servant. She had learned over the years that the best way to remain unseen was to assume the position everyone expected of an elf.

Pickpockets were no strange occurrence in the Denerim market area, so soon enough the commotion died down and Kallian wove through the throngs of people, away with her prize. The bustle of the market was at its peak as people tried to fill up their baskets for evening supper before heading home, or score a last trade of the day as merchants grew more willing to haggle to sell off their last few pieces. Maybe she could score a last bit of coin too. A weaselly looking man at a stall was haggling loudly with a blond man - an elf? A perfect distraction. The bronze skinned elf was leaned in close, and she realized he wasn’t speaking common. Curious.

Caught standing in one place, staring too long, the elf turned, catching her eyes in his. Her own widened when she saw the edges of a tattoo curling down his cheek. Dalish? In the city? A flick of his eyes over her body was all she got before he turned back to his conversation, deeming her either unimportant or uninteresting. Fine with her; that was exactly what she was going for, after all.

A burly guard strutted down the street just as she happened to turn back around, and though she sidestepped out of his path, he made a point to jostle her shoulder.

“Keep out of the way, knife-ear.”

She bit back her retort, knowing an altercation with the city guard wouldn’t end in her favour, even if she did have a dagger strapped around her calf, hidden in her leather boots. When she glanced back again, the blond elf was already strutting away. Opportunity lost. Onto the next then. Kallian slipped down a street leading away from the market, hoping to make it to the docks before the sun started to fall below the horizon.

When the guard passed she scrambled up to the roof, familiar footholds in window sills and jutted out stones making her ascension swift. Running across rooftops now, she could see the hazy outline of masts in the distance, blending in with the shimmering grey of the ocean.

Kallian had her eye on a new dagger, the blade on her current one now worn from repeated sharpening. Plenty of smugglers at the docks had no qualms about who they sold to, despite the law that elves weren’t permitted weapons. That worked out fine for her since she had no qualms about the stupid law.

The rougher crowds were starting to slink into existence as the light faded. She kept her head down and pace fast, as did the many others around her as per the mutual agreement among the patrons to mind their own business. People who poked their noses where they didn’t belong ended up floating belly up come morning.

She found the smuggler, a lanky man with a full beard and long hair tied in a ponytail down his back. Kallian slapped her accumulated wealth on a barrel, a pile of silvers and coppers with a single sovereign.

He chuckled, eyeing the pile. “For the dagger, right? Steel and polished bone handle?”

Kallian raised her eyes to meet his, head held high and firm. “That’s the one.”

“Price just went up.”

“I just saw you three weeks ago, and you said two gold,” Kallian hissed.

The smuggler waved her off, “Supply and demand, girl. Demand just went up. Three gold.”

Brow crinkling, Kallian huffed, fist clenching. She had just spent all that time saving up enough money in the first place. It was _months_ of savings. Unless some noble wandered into the commoner markets, she wouldn’t be able to earn enough silver for weeks yet.

“What else have you got?” She finally gave in with a sullen tone.

“I don’t deal in shit-tier weaponry. Either you have the money for the goods I have or you get out of the way for paying customers,” he growled, looming over her, threatening Kallian with his imposing height.

Begrudgingly the coin was scooped back into her purse and flipped back into the lining of her waist band.

“Fucking waste of time,” she mumbled.

Feeling put-out, Kallian walked back along the streets towards the Alienage, footsteps fast on the cobblestone. The evening light gave everything a grey-blue hue, matching her sour mood.

“Poor knife-ear lost on the way home?” A taunting voice fell on her ears out of an alley.

This was why she always had a dagger on her.

“Little girls shouldn’t be out in the dark,” a second male called.

Kallian had heard it all before, and rolled her eyes. She feigned fear, crouching, down against the wall, eyes darting around frantically even as she slipped her hand down her ankle to pull out her short iron dagger.

The first of the men sauntered up to her, a glint in his eyes that spoke of triumph before the dance had even started. A hand reached out for her but Kallian was quick to shove a knee straight up into his groin and he dropped with a wheeze, both hands gripping at his crotch.

“Bitch,” he seethed, swiping his legs out to try and knock her down.

She sidestepped the attempt, leaping out of the way to strike down at him with her blade, but his friend had joined the fray. He grabbed at her waist, and she spun her dagger in her hand to stab backwards with it only to meet steel. With a shocked gasp, she felt her blade break, one too many sharpenings making it weak.

“Fuck!” She dropped the handle, headbutting backwards as the man groped at her.

His hands froze when he inadvertently reached her hidden coin purse. Kallian kicked back at him, hoping to loosen his hold on her, but having seen his friend taken down, he knew her tricks.

“What’s this here, eh?” He leered, and Kallian stilled when a pointed blade met the small of her back.

With no weapon, and any movement digging the sharp point further into her, Kallian had to stand passively as his over-large hands slid down her body, making her shudder and finally reached into her waist band and pulled out the coin bag.

“Now-now, naughty knife-ear. Where’d all this come from? Somebody’s been stealing,” he sang with a low voice.

The friend had now gotten up, mouth twisted in disgust at her. She kept quiet, now only focused on surviving the encounter. _Give them what they want - no coin is worth your life_.

“Best to return it to the rightful owners, right Yates?”

“Too true. Rats on the street don’t know how to handle coin properly. We’ll take good care of it for you,” the voice crooned in her ear, making Kallian shiver in response. Everything inside her was screaming: she needed his hands off of her!

As fast as the purse was yanked from her, Kallian was shoved against the wall. Her quick reflexes were enough to bring her hands out in front of herself to stop from scraping her cheek on the rough hewn stone of the walls. She let out the breath she’d been holding in a rush, pulling in sharp gasps of fresh air into her lungs.

Their joined footsteps scuffed along the stone as they ran away with their prize and Kallian turned around, tilting her head back against the wall, waiting for her panicked heart to ease its tempo. Dagger ruined, no new weapon to replace it, all her coin fucking stolen. She was back to fucking square one. She had gotten cocky, should have stuck to the rooftops. Could have been worse though… Knowing it could have been worse did not stop her heart trying to escape her chest, or her limbs from trembling.

“Oh shit,” she looked up, realizing how dark it truly had become. Cyrion would be expecting her for supper and she still had a lot of ground to cover.

This time she didn’t make the same mistake, and though her hands were still shaking after the encounter, she managed to climb back up the wall. Kallian crept along rooftops high above the guard patrolling below, hopping over the walls into the Alienage. Immediately she crossed paths with Elva, tossing out her dirty bath water and narrowing her eyes in Kallian’s direction. The woman was bitter, with good reason - a lazy husband and pile of children made for a hard life, but she took her ire out on everyone, particularly the comparably better-off Tabris family.

An overturned crate inside an abandoned shack held Kallian’s stash of clothing to change into, swapping out her men’s pants and sweat-stained shirt for a mildly cleaner brown and green smock. Her father strongly disapproved of her thievery, ever wary that Kallian was tempting her mother, Adaia’s, fate upon herself, so she kept her daily activities hidden. Easy to hide when she didn’t even have the coin anymore. She kicked the wall in frustration.

Kallian hurriedly burst through the door of her home where Shianni and her father were seated, almost finished their meal.

“I was getting worried,” her father admonished her, even as he got up to serve a plate of roast chicken and warm bread. “You know how I feel about you being out in the city after dark. It’s almost curfew.”

“Sorry Papa, you know Miss Gilbert keeps a tight deadline.” Kallian bit into the fresh chicken with a watering mouth. “Mmm, this is amazing.” She hadn’t realized her hunger. “She had me stay back to finish the hemming on a few more pieces. No big deal.”

“Just as well. It means she values your work,” said Cyrion.

“Right.” The lie was almost too smooth at this point. Kallian had no desire to be a seamstress assistant but she needed a way to explain her income, and so the story had been woven.

She quietly helped clean the dishes while Shianni disappeared out the back to take in the hanging clothes. Her father joined her side, a certain hesitance in the way he looked at her without speaking.

“Your match will be arriving soon.”

Her hands stilled. “Is that so.” Kallian kept her voice carefully neutral. More shit to ruin her day.

“We received a letter this morning. With Soris marrying tomorrow, yours won’t be long off,” said Cyrion.

The topic had always been a source of tension between them, since she turned eighteen the previous autumn and matchmaking had begun. It was simply what elves _did_. Get married, have babies, make the babies get married once they’re old enough and never change anything about their lives in any way.

“I’m going to bed,” Kallian said rather sharply, back turned to her father. “G’night.”

Kallian closed the curtain that shielded their beds from the rest of the small house and turned around to find Shianni waiting for her on the top bunk.

“Where were you this time?”

“Ugh, I don’t wanna talk about it,” Kallian flopped onto the bed below her, speaking in hushed whispers.

“You didn’t get caught, did you?” Her voice low with worry while trying to conceal their conversation from Cyrion.

“Not exactly. I fucked up though… I lost my savings.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, cousin. Hey, word is, someone’s got some moonshine that will be hauled out for Soris’s wedding. We can get drunk off our asses tomorrow, at least.”

Kallian sighed. No amount of moonshine would make up for the months of work she had lost, or the dagger she was missing. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

 

* * *

 

“Come on, wake up cousin!”

“Leave me alone, Shianni,” Kallian grunted into her pillow. Let her sleep in at least a little.

“Brides don’t get to sleep in on their wedding day!”

“What?” She rose sharply, nearly smacking her head on the beams of the bed above her. “Bride? What are you on about?”

Shianni clenched her fists, dancing from foot to foot, speaking rapidly, “Soris’s bride came in by carriage just this morning. But your betrothed came too!” She swayed for a second, palm bracing on the wall beside her. “Oh and he’s handsome. You _have_ to get up.” Shianni grabbed at Kallian’s arm.

“And how much have you already had to drink?” She raised an eyebrow, noticing the flush already forming on Shianni’s comparably paler features.

“Shut it, you. It’s a day for celebration! I already have your dress. The rest of the bridesmaids are all getting ready. Come on!”

Kallian’s heart pounded thunderously in her chest. She didn’t want to get married and she didn’t care how much of a petulant child that made her sound. How had it happened so fast? Just last night they got word the dowry was received. She remembered word of Soris’s bride to be came through a messenger not two weeks ago, but they hadn’t confirmed any dates for her yet. Fuck. So much for getting wasted and enjoying the day.

A bundle of cloth was thrust into Kallian’s arms and she shook it out revealing a wedding gown - her wedding gown. Fuck. She held it up against herself. It was in the typical style of her Alienage: embroidered flowers around the neckline, in simple soft white with a scooped neck, just long enough to graze her mid-shin. Much of the dress was once her mother’s, just with the waist taken in, the sleeves shortened and some pretty little beading details Shianni had sewn in. As beautiful as it was, Kallian had a hard time imagining herself as a bride and now it was about to happen regardless of what she wanted.

“Meet you outside!” Shianni hollered, loudly slamming the door to their home behind her.

Knots twisting in her gut, Kallian threw the stupid garment on, hating that it was soft and new and felt lovely against her skin because dammit she didn’t _want_ this. But what else was she to do? This was her life, and how it was always to be played out. No matter how much she dreamed of adventure like her mother’s, trained in weapons and took to the streets, she wouldn’t disappoint her family. And thoughts of adventure were all rather impractical, considering Kallian was no more than a common thief. Instead she was resigned to being married off, play the good housewife, and have more elf babies to continue the damn cycle.

It was as she was scowling and ripping a comb through her hair that she heard the door creak open again, though less aggressively this time.

“My dear daughter, how lovely you look,” her father spoke in his soft tones.

She sighed. “I didn’t think it was going to happen so soon. Let alone right fucking _now_.”

Cyrion smoothed her hair down, cupping her face, and kissed her forehead. “I know, my dear, I know.” He appeared wistful for a moment, eyes swimming in memories Kallian couldn’t see. “Your mother would be proud of you, seeing you like this, you know.”

“Yeah… I wish she was here.” Her throat tightened.

They were both quiet for a moment until Cyrion looked her in the eye, a serious look come over his face.

“You should keep your ‘weapon proficiency’ hidden for a time. At least for now. We don’t want to risk-”

“I _know_ , Pa,” Kallian rolled her eyes.

“Just be careful, and go out, have fun. We don’t have many days to celebrate like this.”

It was with much trepidation that Kallian set foot out of her house, and immediately stumbled upon a drunken group of men singing and passing around a bottle.

“Oh look, the bride has graced us with ‘er presence,” the red-haired man slurred.

“Shut up,” Kallian said in reflex with an eyeroll. “But... since I _am_ the bride, doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to give me gifts?” She smirked, never one to miss an opportunity.

He fidgeted for a moment before reaching to the step beside him, procuring the bottle with a few fingers of dark liquor left at the bottom. “Many happy tidings,” he said as he slapped the nearly empty bottle into her outstretched hand - much to the loud complaints of his friends.

“Cheers,” she said.

And Kallian downed the last few gulps. The acrid taste burned the back of her throat on the way down making her hack and cough, blinking tears out of her eyes. Nothing like some poorly made liquid courage to get through her wedding. Her fucking _wedding_.

When she came upon the main square where the Vhenadahl was planted, the place was already crowded with elves - family, friends, and joyful well wishers just looking to take advantage of food and drink.

She scowled and muttered, “Fuck this.”

Oddly enough there were a few who didn’t look like they were enjoying the festivities. A younger girl that Kallian had become friendly with in recent years, Nessa, was wringing her hands.

“What’s wrong? Are you,” Kallian glanced over her shoulder to see Nessa’s parents setting down a trunk with a light thud, “leaving?”

“The human who owns our building is selling it for storage space. We can’t afford a new place here. We’re going to Ostagar.” Nessa’s face fell and her voice dropped. “I don’t wanna be a soldier’s plaything.”

“You’re taking your fifteen year old daughter to an army camp?” Kallian accosted Nessa’s father. Her nose turned up in revolt.

“And what is a child like you doing questioning my parenting?” Nessa’s father sneered. “I do what I have to to provide for our family.”

“So let her stay here. In our _home_.” Home - her home! Kallian’s face brightened. “She can stay here, with my father.”

“We aren’t looking for charity, girl.”

Her lips tightened and she exhaled slowly out her nose. Child. Girl. “Well if you haven’t heard, I’m getting married today.” Maker, did that word feel weird coming out of her mouth. “So Pa would love having someone else around the house. You cook pretty good, right Nessa?”

Nessa nodded, eyes wide and hopeful as she turned back to her parents.

“It would be a better life here, familiar. And everyone loves Cyrion, he would look out for her.” Nessa’s mother was onboard too now.

“Fine. Get your things.”

“Thank you!” Nessa cried, and sprung at Kallian with arms wide open. “I won’t forget this.”

There was life back in her eyes. And hopefully Cyrion wouldn’t mind. His home had always been open to strays, their friends who needed an extra bite to eat, or shelter from an unhappy home. It would work out.

Now if only someone would come free Kallian from her impending nuptials.

With a friendly half wave, Kallian left Nessa and her parents behind, hoping to disappear for a bit. Instead she was continuously ambushed by people touching her, hugging her, and telling her how excited she was supposed to be and that they couldn’t believe she was really about to be ‘all grown up’.

Luckily, she spotted her other ginger-headed cousin, Soris, leaning against a tree. “Soris!” He didn’t hear her but she was already moving towards him, hoping to avoid all the merrymakers.

A kid not higher than her waist came barrelling into her and Kallian just managed to react fast enough to stop the girl from falling.

“I didn’t mean to!” The girl immediately shouted by way of apology to Kallian as the boy she was playing with laughed at the accident in his favour.

“Now I’ve got you, apostate! I smite you!”

“Playing some good old templars versus mages, I see,” Kallian murmured to herself. Growing up pretending to be things they can never be. “Why not… be an elf hero?”

“But we don’t know any elf ones! Everyone knows elves aren’t knights.” The boy crossed his arms with a huff.

A spot of quick thinking had Kallian winding a tale of a heroic she-elf who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Internally smirking she wondered if her own thievery counted when technically giving to herself was still giving to the poor. She just didn’t give to the _other_ poor. Could she really be blamed for looking out for her own?

“I wanna be just like Tathas!” The young girl exclaimed with bright eyes. She was already mimicking a bow being drawn as the children reared up for another round of make-believe.

Kallian shook her head, remembering a time when she too acted out battles and dreamed of her own heroic adventures. She sighed, looking up at the sky. _Really gave us pointy ears the shit end of the stick_.

A stranger put a hand on her shoulder, “My dear look at you, not a wee little one anymore, are you?”

“Er… no?” Kallian spun to face a woman with greying hair whom she had no memory of ever meeting.

“Forgive me, you probably don’t remember us. I’m Dilwyn, and this is my husband, Gethon. We were friends of your mother’s,” she added by way of explanation when Kallian’s features remained blank.

“Oh. Well thanks for coming all this way. Soris is wait-”

“She would be proud to see the woman you’ve become,” Dilwyn interrupted with a hand on Kallian’s arm. “Shame what happened to poor Adaia. You have her eyes, and that striking golden hair too. We just wanted to pass on our congratulations, and this gift to help you get started on your future family.”

Kallian blinked in surprise when a small handful of silvers was pressed into her palm. “This is… Thank you!” In the wake of losing everything the previous night, she was genuinely grateful.

The coin was deposited into a pocket, with feelings of trepidation. Wedding gifts. It was actually going to happen.

“I’m surprised you haven’t already climbed the walls,” a familiar warm voice called to her attention.

“Soris, there you are!” Kallian sighed, already shaking her head at the idea. “You know I couldn’t leave him.” Not after losing Adaia. She couldn’t, actually she _could_ imagine exactly what that would do to him.

“Yeah, I know. He’s done everything for us.”

She elbowed him. “‘Sides, where the fuck do you think I’d go? Live in a damned tree like the Dalish?”

He laughed, looking a little less stressed. “No, I can’t really picture the market thief being a tree person.” Soris smiled. “I'm glad I don't have to do this alone, in any case.”

“Rather not be fucking doing it at all actually.” Kallian kicked at the dirt on the ground, dust puffing up over her pale flat slippers.

“You should be grateful. At least your betrothed is a total dreamboat while mine sounds like a damn mouse!”

Kallian snickered which only further soured Soris’s expression. She had been about to launch into her usual rant about refusing the matchmaker but Kallian was roughly shoved out of the way, nearly colliding into the tree.

“Watch it knife-ear.” The human man growled without throwing another glance in her direction. “Having a party and didn't think to invite us? How terribly rude,” he addressed the gathered merry-makers.

The elves started to retreat but his men were already behind them grinning and shoving the women back into their shrinking circle.

“Come on, lads, everybody pick out a pet!”

“Don’t touch me, shem!” And it was Shianni being gripped roughly by her upper arm.

Kallian ran without thinking, adrenaline pumping through her veins and heating her blood. “Let her go!”

The other humans leered and chuckled, elbowing each other as their apparent ring leader dropped Shianni’s arm to strut towards Kallian.

Up close she questioned what the fuck she hoped to accomplish. She had only been thinking she needed to get him away from her family but then he was in front of her and sneering and so much taller and Kallian was in a fucking wedding dress with no weapons or armour.

“And what are you gonna do to stop us, little knife-ear?” His shadow loomed over her.

Kallian’s hands twitched for a blade, even knowing her boot knife was long gone, and even if she had a weapon, what good would an all out street-brawl accomplish.

A clattering sounded accompanied by Soris shouting, “No, Shianni!”

The man fell as the shards of the clay pot sprayed out around him.

“Holy shit,” Kallian looked at her cousin with wide eyes before breaking out in astonished laughter.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” one of the humans snarled as the other pair hefted the unconscious man between themselves. “That’s Vaughan Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim’s son! He won’t forget this,” he hissed.

A hush fell over the gathered group as they watched the men leave, some ease returning now that the human invaders had left, though wary glances passed between the onlookers.

Soris had gone a whiter shade of pale, even for him. “It’ll be okay cousin. They won’t want to admit that an elven girl beat them. It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Maker,” Shianni slid a hand down her face. She jumped slightly when a cough sounded from behind her.

Soris cleared his throat, stepping forward to introduce the two elves and Kallian took the man and woman in with a sinking feeling.

“This is Valora, my betrothed.” Soris held his hand out to a girl with straw-blond hair and a slight upturned nose.

“Pleased to meet you!”

Kallian knew why he said she sounded like a mouse. Her squeaking voice was grating.

“And I suppose you might be Kallian?” The man beside Valora spoke, with a much more pleasant sounding timbre. “My name is Nelaros, and I’m quite happy to finally see you in person.”

Soris and Shianni had apparently decided to take Valora and give them some privacy. Unwanted privacy, as Kallian shifted awkwardly on her feet.

Nelaros broke the silence before it stretched on too long. “I’m suddenly feeling less nervous now that I’ve met you. Are you? Nervous?”

Nervous was an understatement. “I don’t exactly want to get married,” she said, looking anywhere but at her betrothed.

“Oh,” he blushed then. “Well I suppose we can, you know, try to make the best of it.”

Movement in her periphery drew her eye to watch yet another human stroll into the Alienage. “Hold on,” she brushed Nelaros off, at least thankful to have an excuse to leave his company for the time being.

“What do you think he’s doing here?” Soris jogged up beside her once more.

Her jaw clenched and she fisted her hands in her skirt, hurrying over to the new intruder. “No idea. But I’m gonna find out.”

“This is a private party,” Kallian told the man. She took in his appearance: rich dark beard, sword and dagger at each hip, shield on his back, but not the city guard. She crossed her arms. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“So I’ve heard. Then may I pass on my congratulations to you, but I have no plans to leave.”

Kallian exchanged a look with Soris. The crowds were already getting drunker and after Vaughan’s intrusion, she didn’t want anymore drunken attacks involving clay pots.

“Then… what exactly are you here for? Maybe we can reach a compromise of sorts. We don’t want anymore trouble,” Kallian kept her gaze cool.

“Ah Duncan, I didn’t see you’d arrived,” Valendrian, the Hahren, greeted the human warmly.

“You know this Shem?” Kallian asked skeptically, feeling irritated when the human’s eyebrow merely raised in amusement.

“It has been a long time since we saw each other last. This is the Commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, Duncan.”

“And I’m sorry to come bearing grim news on such happy occasions.” Duncan turned to Valendrian. “A Blight has begun in the south. King Cailan is calling all the armies to Ostagar and the Grey Wardens are low in numbers.”

“I’d heard the rumours. Grim news indeed.” Valendrian’s mouth set into a hard line. “You’ll have to forgive me, friend, we are about to begin the ceremonies. Kallian, Soris, treat Duncan like you would any other guest.”

“You talk like you’re planning on recruiting from here. You do know elves aren’t even allowed to carry weapons?” Kallian narrowed her eyes at him.

His only answer was to respond in an equally cryptic tone, though his eyes seemed to have a sparkle to them, belying mischief behind wizened creases on his face. “But of course. And were we all to follow the rules, the Grey Wardens would be even fewer in number than we are now.”

She kept her face carefully blank and left him with a nod. Inside she was near trembling with excitement. There wasn’t just a Grey Warden in the Alienage, he was a recruiter. And though she hadn’t been quick to let on her skill - obviously she couldn’t go around telling just anyone - he had looked at her with some sort of… contemplation. Had Valendrian spoken of her? He was, after all, one of the few who knew of Adaia’s skill, passed down to Kallian.

She remembered her mother’s stories of Grey Wardens and couldn’t help but briefly fantasize of a blue and silver tabard with gleaming weapons and -

“There you are! The ceremony is going to start soon!” Shianni was giggling, throwing her arms around both their shoulders. “Double wedding time!”

And with that, any inkling of hope to end up with the legendary wardens was dashed.

Kallian tried to take deep breaths and quell her fluttering heart as she stood on the raised platform in front of the Chantry Mother. Nelaros smiled at her, a flash of white teeth and earnest blue eyes.

“You look stunning,” he told her with a squeeze to her hand. “And may I say I'm quite pleased to find you haven't run away,” he said wryly.

When had he grabbed her hand? Kallian put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart trying to escape. Escape was exactly what she wanted. Here before everyone, she felt like she was sealing away her fate, to be one of the many elven women to live and die right here in the Alienage. Her father smiled at her from down in front. She couldn’t disappoint him, not when he was so hopeful, had invested so much in giving her a good future even if it wasn’t the future she wanted.

The two couples stood hand in hand before the Sister as she began some verses pulled from the Chant of Light. No more than two lines in, gasps and screams erupted from the back of the onlookers. Vaughan and his noble cronies were pushing their way through to the front.

“Oh, fuck,” Kallian whispered.

“You call this a wedding, Mother Boann?” Vaughan marched up the steps with entourage in tow. “Dress up your pets any way you like, doesn’t make them people.”

“My Lord,” she gasped, moving out of the way.

“Anybody care to come to a _real_ party? The boys and I were feeling a bit lonely,” he sneered in a way that made Kallian’s blood boil. “Make sure to grab that bitch,” he nodded over to Shianni, who tried to run but was stopped by a pair of armoured men before she could move more than two steps.

In an instant the rest of the bridesmaids were set upon, as well as Valora, arms gripped in large hands of the human men around them.

And not a single soul moved to help them.

Kallian stepped out from behind Nelaros where he had thought to shield her - of course having no clue about her particular skills. “Let go of them!” She cried out desperately when no one else uttered a word.

Vaughan eyed her, making Kallian feel dirty the way his eyes roamed up her body. “Well now this one’s a pretty whore. Take her too, boys.” Vaughan laughed with a snap of his fingers and the other humans closed in on her.

Her chest seized tight as blood pounded in her ears. “Can’t find any girls who _actually_ want you?” She hurled insults, hoping to distract while she looked around for anything she could use for a weapon. “What’s the problem, prick too small? Or, let me guess, you can only get it up when - _oof_!”

A fist drove into her side and Kallian spat on Vaughan following through by driving the heel of her hand upwards into his face, hearing the sickening crunch of bone from the broken nose. “Stay the fuck away from me,” she hissed. Kallian could not be taken. She wouldn’t.

“Fucking bitch,” he growled with a hand to his face.

The men backed her up against the building and Kallian met the scared brown eyes of Shianni. She kicked at one man, only to have her wrist grabbed as she tried to strike a punch. She thrashed out with her other fist, and that too was caught and twisted firmly back, making her back arch as her muscles strained. No weapons, nowhere to run, Kallian couldn’t save her, or any of them. She was caught, and still survival instinct told her to take the fuckers out.

She swung her head back, her skull colliding with the human’s jaw and his grip loosened, but there was another man to take his place.

The larger man on her right swung out and backhanded her, throwing her completely off balance. Kallian’s head smacked back against the wall and her vision tunneled, narrowing down to a greyed out view of three leering smirks before she collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thanks for the continued support and friendship of my lovely beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata)
> 
> I'm finally starting to post this story that I have been working on for too long. I hope you'll enjoy it and stick around to watch Kallian's journey. Let me know your thoughts! I'd love to chat in the comments.
> 
> Find me on tumblr as [madamsnark](http://madamsnark.tumblr.com/)


	2. Find a Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: mentions of rape but no descriptions given to the event.

Kallian blinked against the dim light, wincing as her head pounded. “What the-”

“Oh Kallian, you’re awake, thank the Maker!” Shianni squeezed her shoulders in relief, though there was still anguish in her voice.

“Where?” Kallian winced again as she sat up, touching her head gingerly.

“They took us to the Arl’s and-”

“The Arl’s?” Kallian’s stomach dropped. Scanning the room, she saw no windows, a wardrobe and a heavy metal latch on the door. Locked from the outside no doubt. Trapped. _Kidnapped_.

“Maker keep us. Maker protect us. Maker keep us,” Nola was chanting with her forehead pressed against the carpet.

“Give it a rest would you. That’s not gonna help us now!” Shianni griped in a way that told Kallian it had not been the first time this conversation had happened.

“What else am I to do?” Nola’s chanting just grew louder in protest.

“Fuck.” Groaning, Kallian stood with the help of Shianni and Valora who were both looking to her with fear in their eyes.

“Any ideas, cousin?” Shianni asked.

There wasn’t room to panic. “We don’t stand any chance of getting out until someone comes in to get us. When that happens,” Kallian met each of their eyes with a grim look, “take any opportunity you see.”

Valora stilled her quivering lips, though a single tear ran down her face. She nodded, hand twisting and untwisting her skirt. Poor girl had just come to Denerim to get married and this is the shit she got.

Kallian edged around the room, trying to find anything she could use as a weapon. The wardrobe was empty, as expected, and there weren’t any chairs or tables that she could break for the legs. It seemed as though she had been trapped in a neverending roll down a hill: couldn’t afford the new dagger, broke her old one, mugged of all her savings, and of course culminating in the final event of being kidnapped while wearing nothing more than some soft slippers and a wedding dress. She didn’t even have a damn knife.

The door burst open and everyone jumped as three armoured men stormed in.

Armoured and armed. “Don’t fight,” Kallian urged them at the last second.

“You’ll not have me!” Nola cried, skidding from the floor in an attempt to run out the open doorway.

A sword pierced through her middle, sticking straight out her back as blood seeped into her green dress.

“No!” Kallian yelled as Shianni and Valora recoiled in horror.

“Whores have to learn some respect for their betters.” The guard withdrew his sword, callously wiping the spilled blood along Nola’s back. He pointed with the sword, straight at Shianni’s trembling form. “Her.”   

One of Vaughan’s friends pushed through the guards and grabbed Shianni by her upper arms in what must have been a bruising hold. Shianni didn’t fight, just stared down at Nola’s corpse, left to bleed out on the floor.

 _Good job, Shianni_. It was one thing to fight back when there was a chance, but it was pure stupidity to fight only to get herself injured… or even killed. “And you two get the sweet little blushing bride.” Valora was gripped between another pair of men, openly sobbing.

“Looks like we get the scrappy one.” The two remaining men were closing in on Kallian and she looked over their armoured bodies for any way to overpower them. She was fast but they had swords.

“Oh we’ll tame her yet,” the other one leered.

Her eyes darted around frantically. She swallowed dryly, heart racing, fight or flight taking hold - only there was nowhere to run, no way to fight. Door blocked by men, two closing in on her. No weapons. She backed up slowly, with a jolt, realizing she was already at the wall.

“Kallian!”

Everyone turned to the voice in the doorway and, Maker fucking bless him, it was Soris who met her eyes, sliding a sword across the floor, between the two guards and straight into Kallian’s hand. She wasn’t as great with a sword, but it would fucking do.

As the first man turned she sliced horizontally, bringing the blade through his neck, only getting stopped when it lodged in his spine. She yanked back, getting sprayed with his blood and then parried the other man’s attack, surprise being her only advantage.

She dodged out of the way of his attacks, bringing up the sword to block off his blows, but he had the advantage of years of sword work, whereas Kallian was unarmoured and using a blade that was not her own, and had far less practice with.

“Soris!” She grunted as she blocked yet another lethal blow.

There was a guard just lying on the floor with his weapon free to take. Soris grabbed it and swung the sword in an arc onto the guard’s shoulder, scraping against the pauldron.

He turned to take on Soris while Kallian arced her sword low, drawing the tip of the blade along the back of the man’s knees, slicing as she would with a dagger. He dropped to the floor with a surprised gasp of pain and Kallian stepped in front of him and drove her sword through his filthy face.

She let the sword drop limply to her side and wrapped an arm around Soris. "Maker, I've never been more happy to see you." Her hand trembled and she closed it into a fist. 

“I can't believe she's dead.” Soris was staring down at Nola.

Kallian's heart was still pounding from the heat of battle. She pulled away from him and her eyes flew over the dead girl, landing in turn on each of the dead guards. Enough blood seeped from the bodies to form a puddle. Her stomach turned unpleasantly and she tore her eyes away.

“How did you get in here?”

Soris spoke with a slight nervous tremor under his breath, “Nelaros insisted we try to help, and then when that Grey Warden heard he just handed us a pair of swords and told us to hurry.”

“Nelaros? He came for us?” He barely knew her… and yet it was his idea?

Soris nodded. “We need to hurry. He’s keeping watch for us out by the end of the main hall.”

“You left him alone?” She exclaimed. “Ugh, nevermind, we need to get back to him and find the girls.” She could do this. She could get them out.

Sparing one more glance at her lost friend, Kallian looted the dead men at their feet. She yanked the belt and scabbard from around the skinnier man’s hips and wound it twice around her own waist to secure it. She sheathed her sword and motioned for Soris to do the same.

“Nola?” He asked, a sorrow-filled glance to Nola’s pale body said everything.

“It’s-” Guilt clutched Kallian’s heart. “There’s nothing…” Again she cast her gaze away. “We have to go.” _We have to leave the body behind. We have to leave her behind_. “Just follow my lead and stay quiet, okay?” Kallian instructed. "They have Shianni."

Soris nodded, jaw set. 

She could tell he was frightened. 

They passed through the corridor with soft placed steps and Kallian concentrated on regulating her breathing into even draws, fighting against her accelerating heart. She knew she was on a time limit.

At the end of the hall were two doors and Kallian silently pressed an ear against the wood listening for any inhabitants inside. To her left she heard clattering of dishes and deep voices. Her right side was the safer option, hearing only the occasional crackling of a fire.

Cracking open the door an inch let her see inside to a scullery. A lone elven man worked over a pile of various root vegetables, chopping and peeling in the quiet. Footsteps thudded from the door behind her and she threw open the door, ushering Soris inside before closing it firmly behind them.

“Did you see men bringing some elven girls through here?” She asked the elf.

He looked up, pausing in his task as he took them in with dawning horror: Kallian in her bloodstained gown, and two elves bearing arms didn’t bode well for anyone. He nodded, pointing through the open door with a trembling hand. “I can’t have trouble down here. I just got this job!”

“It won’t come back to you. Thanks for your help.” Kallian felt for the man, and any other elf who had to work in the Arl’s estate.

Another empty corridor and then an open door. The pair of elves crept up to the doorway, ever light on their feet. There were four men, chatting at the table and drinking from large tankards.

“Cousin,” Soris whispered, “that’s two to one.”

Her gaze landed on their weaponry and chainmail. They were still on duty - not getting drunk then… shit. But they were on some sort of break.

Kallian pulled Soris back from the door into the corridor again. “I’m gonna ask you to do something, and I want you to trust me.”

He squinted at her in suspicion. “I’m guessing I won’t like it.”

“Nope.” She left him and snuck back into the scullery.

“Not you again!” The servant groaned.

“I know, sorry listen, do you have a rat problem down here?”

He crossed his arms, looking affronted. “The Arl wouldn’t have it.” He jutted his chin over at a shelf containing a dark bottle. “Always keep some rat poison handy.”

She grabbed it off the shelf to a wide-eyed response and hiss of, “What are you doing?”

Ignoring him and thinking fast, she grabbed more tankards from a shelf, quickly pouring mead from the barrel. She had no idea how much rat poison it took to hurt a person so she dumped a generous amount in each glass, swirling the liquid.

“You didn’t see anything,” she said darkly, and carried the tray back out.

“Take these out to the men, make sure they drink them.” Kallian held the wooden tray out to Soris.

He took it in hand without thinking, looking down and back up to Kallian’s sly smile. “Maker, what have you done? Why can’t _you_ carry them out? You’re a way better liar!”

A pointed look at her reddened dress ended any arguments Soris would have. Guards weren’t _that_ dim.

She waited with bated breath as she heard Soris offer them a second round. Though Kallian could sense the tremors in his voice, apparently the men did not as they took the drinks and Soris hurried back to her side. It was a tense few moments waiting in silence, hand on the pommel of her sword, ready to attack if need be.

A thump sounded, followed by a succession of thuds and clattering of mugs.

The pair of elves peered around the corner, smiles stretching across their faces as they realized their success. One step closer to Shianni and the others.

As Kallian stepped over the prone bodies, she saw a dagger slid halfway out of its sheath and grabbed it for herself. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, Kallian was ready when they moved to the next room and fell upon another pair of guards making their rounds. Their taunts sailed over her head as she lashed out at them, losing herself in the rush of the fight.

A sword swung at her head and she neatly dodged with a duck and twirl, bringing her off-hand down into his thigh. He stumbled and another head hit the floor by her hand.

“Cousin!”

Soris was backed against the wall, sword locked against his adversary, barely swinging it up in time to block. The guard turned when Soris cried for help, shock flitting across his face when he saw the severed head.

Kallian punched him right in his stupid, slack-jawed face.

For good measure she slit his throat once he hit the ground. They were getting the fuck out and the less resistance left alive, the better.

They opened the next door to a long hallway with several doors and a branching corridor in the middle.

The first two doors were locked, and without sound coming from behind the door, Kallian felt pretty safe in moving on. Another door opened to a small storage room of sorts. There were old swords on a table, and some armour stands with plate and leather on them.

She moved inside, eyes drawn to the stand with a dark brown, riveted leather chestpiece. It must have been made for squires because it wasn’t as broad across the chest as the other pieces.

“Grab what you can, Soris. We just got lucky,” she said, already strapping the leather over her bloody dress. It was looser around the waist than it was meant to be, but it would do for her purposes.

Kallian pulled off some more armour from another stand, helping Soris pull cinch buckles tight.

“Gloves, do you see gloves anywhere?” She scanned the room, finding large leather boots and heavy shin guards across the floor.

“Here!” Soris held up a pair. “They’re a bit big, but they still fit me.”

They shifted through the discarded weapons until they found a small shield that Soris could wield and a dagger for Kallian to switch out with her sword. There weren’t any gloves that fit her either, but they were both comparatively better off. Now that they were away from the kitchens, she anticipated heavier guard, and they had to be prepared.

Soris poked his head out first, to direct them both where he knew Nelaros would be waiting. But what was one elf going to do when watching out for a slew of guards that patrolled the estate?

“This way,” her cousin’s hushed whisper sounded and she followed close behind.

Every time footsteps and clanking chainmail grew closer her heart stopped then sped. Each of them ran while remaining feather light on their feet. A single mistake could have them killed. Even if no human expected a pair of elves to attack, just a poorly placed blade could make a deadly cut - a lesson drilled into her as soon as Kallian began learning to fight. That same lesson would help her though, because as long as she kept striking and landing hits, a foe could bleed out while she dodged.

“We have to be getting-”

Soris skidded to a halt. “Nelaros!”

And for the second time that day, Kallian witnessed an elf with a blade through their gut. No fight, just the whites of his eyes showing in pained shock as he was brutally tossed aside, like an inconvenient pest. In one second. Dead. All because _he_ was the one who actually fucking did anything to try to help.

An angry shriek ripped from her lips and she was running for the humans with blades flashing through the air.

A knife swiped at her arm, crimson seeping into the slashed sleeve of her dress. Now her blood and her enemies mixing to create the spattered dye of ruby red painting her dress. She was only seeing red. Kallian stabbed down wards at the hand trying to draw a sword, through muscle and tendon and back out to strike again.

How fucking dare they toss aside life like that? All for being born an elf.

She grunted with the effort of catching a blade on the small hilt of her dagger, the only thing stopping her from a shorn finger. Slammed into the wall, she didn’t stop her vengeful attack, and directed a foot upwards into an unprotected groin.

The _one_ person in her fucking Alienage who actually tried.

Seeing him cower on the ground only scraped the surface of her satisfaction. She shoved her blades into his neck, scissoring through both sides in a wicked spatter of his life’s blood.

And she had brushed Nelaros off from the second she met him for the simple offence of being matched with her.

Her shoulder ached from the blow of a shield, sending her spiralling towards her dead betrothed. Kallian scrambled to her feet, fighting through the pain of being battered. She did not have fucking time to deal with bruises and blood, no, her gaze was zeroed in on the last target. With a feral snarl she ran at him and skidded low, swiping blades along his thighs and standing up behind him. His shield came up and clipped her in the face, splitting her lip and making Kallian bite her tongue. She retaliated quickly and a blade was shoved into his chest, twisted, and he fell.

“Dammit.” She wiped her face, smearing the blood across her cheek.

Nola, Nelaros, they should be brought back. They should be given pyres, not fucking left in their own blood. Kallian couldn’t regret not getting their bodies as much as she was focused on saving the living. They were already gone. And they couldn’t linger.

With a final look at the blond-haired, far too good elf, Kallian whisked back to his side and fished the iron wedding band from his pocket. Stupid, sentimental, fucking waste of time but she couldn’t just leave him there, feeling like she had failed him somehow.

“I’m...I’m sorry Kalli,” Soris used the nickname from when they were little kids.

She didn’t even know what to say. Kallian hadn’t even known, or tried to know, Nelaros. Yet his death was on her. “He shouldn’t have come. Let’s just… we need to find Shianni.”

The small moment of respite was short lived. Into the main hall were guards left and right. Kallian couldn’t watch Soris’s back as closely and he got flung sideways into a wall. Heavy shields were easy weapons against them. The side of his head was bleeding into one of his eyes, but he was on his feet and that was the most Kallian could hope for at the moment.

Her shoulders were beginning to ache from every time she had to take the brunt of a heavy blow on her blades, and she knew she had to make her strikes count; hit them where they hurt most, quick, and move on to the next. Her focus had completely narrowed in on the kill. Cut, duck, stab, keep going. Soris was wiping blood from his face. She was only idly aware of a swollen lip and a slashed arm. The bruises had melded into one giant throb.

A door. Someone begging.

“Shianni!” Kallian cried, hands trembling as she went for the knob. Unlocked.

Blood spattered across her dress, sleeves partially torn, face battered, arms weary. But Kallian stood tall - the fight not yet gone from her eyes.

“Soris,” she said cooly, “Find the others.”

One look at the furious elf before him, daggers still dripping from the last slain foe and Vaughan was backing up slightly. “Nobody needs to get hurt here. I give you forty sovereigns, you leave, and we make sure nothing gets back to your precious little Alienage. Or did you think you could actually get away with this?” He had the gall to sneer.

“No.” Kallian’s lips turned up in a feral grin, revealing blood stained teeth. “Your mistake was thinking _you_ would though.”

Then she charged. He didn’t have time to react. Silk shirts and trousers did nothing to protect him from Kallian’s wrath. With a wound to the gut, Vaughan fell to his knees, palms clasped over the gash and face pale. Kallian gripped his hair in one hand, and ripped her other dagger across his throat, hand still holding him up by the scalp as she watched the life drain from him. Her front sticky with his blood, chest heaving as she panted: Kallian fucking reveled in it.

Over the blood rushing in her ears, a trembling voice called, “Kallian.”  

Kallian released her grip, his corpse falling to the floor along with her weapons and she was at Shianni’s side in an instant. “Maker, Shianni.” Hands covering both her ears, Kallian pulled Shianni’s face towards her, kissing her forehead and pushing bright ginger hair back form her face. “I’m here!” She grimaced when she realized she was transferring smears of gore to her. “Shit, sorry. We need to get out of here, okay? Can you do that?”

The elf was shut down, staring vacantly at Vaughan’s body. Her jaw set, she finally responded to Kallian, “Did you kill them all?”

Kallian’s tone was equally cold, but fierce all the same. “Like dogs, Shianni.” She held her cousin close, suddenly seeming so much smaller in her arms than her usual loud mouth made her out to be.

“Cousin?” Soris was back with the others.

“What did you _do_?” Horror dripped from Valora’s voice. She backed up a step, cringing away.

 _Afraid of me?_ Kallian looked down at herself, seeing what the other elves were seeing. Kallian’s front was splashed with blood, seeping down into the bottom of her dress, fingernails and skin dyed red, and dead men all around her. Blades still bloody when she sheathed them.

She let loose a shaky breath as she helped Shianni up. “We need to go.”

A mixture of fear and shock kept everyone quiet as they rushed back through the halls to the servants entrance. Corpses littered the floor with sprays of red on the walls. It painted a brutal picture.

And it made Kallian hyper aware of how deep in shit she was.

It was pretty damn hard to get from the Arl’s estate to the Alienage when she was literally bloodsoaked. Rooftops would have to work, running above her fellow elves on the streets beneath her.

The rush of energy, of _purpose_ , was wearing off, leaving a shaky wreck in its place. How long did she have until the guards descended?  Her heart was back to racing again. What the fuck was happening? Dammit. Shit. Fuck! She could run. She may have lost her savings but the thief was nothing if not resourceful. But then… Soris. She could take him too. He had skills. They could leg it to Amaranthine.

Through her musing, her legs had simply carried her along the oft-used routes along walls and rooftops until she was following the others into the Alienage. Duncan was awaiting them, arms uncrossing with unspoken relief as he saw them come in, though Valendrian looked more than crestfallen when he noticed the absence of two elves.

“You don’t have much time,” Duncan spoke to Kallian as soon as she was within earshot.

She was already nodding. “I know, I’ll get Soris and we’ll-”

Clanking platemail and boots trudging across dirt and mud. The guards were already here. Too late. How could she be too late? The damn trail of bodies. And she was wearing their blood like paint.

The leader of the marching guards took one look at Kallian - still wearing the stolen leather armour over her stained dress - and knew. “Take them away,” he spoke coldly to his associates, hard stare fixated on Kallian and Soris.

“No!” She didn’t know what made her say it. “It was only me. He had nothing to do with it!” She was the one with evidence all over her, the one who had downed nearly every enemy. Kallian was well caught, but she wouldn’t take Soris down with her.

“Just you? You expect us to believe that?”

She fixed the human with a hard stare, dropping her gaze down pointedly to her ruined wedding dress.

That seemed to change his mind pretty quickly. “Take her to the dungeons to await the Arl’s return. He’ll do what he sees _fit_ ,” the guard sneered.

Her upper arms were grabbed by fingers biting into her flesh. Her insides froze with fear and her jaw clenched to still the trembling trying to break through the cracks.

“Wait.” Duncan stepped forward into the penetrating glare of the guardsman.

“You’re not going to-” The guard started.

“I am.” The Warden Commander was firm, voice filled with authority. “I am invoking the right of conscription. You must release her into my custody.”

There was an argument, terse words exchanged but Kallian couldn’t even follow it over her own mind running a mile a minute. Her arms were dropped from the constricting grip. Conscription? Not going to the dungeons. Not running away. Conscripted. A Grey Warden? The dull thudding of her dread-filled heart ramped up to full speed, a rapid tempo, jitters giving her an almost nervous tremble in her fingers.

The discussion appeared to be over. “Agreed,” Duncan let his arms uncross and finally turned to Kallian - a twinkle in his dark eyes once more. He _enjoyed_ fucking with the guards like that. “The guards won’t tolerate your presence in the city for much longer, get your things and we leave for Ostagar immediately.”

It was actually happening. “Right. Yeah, okay. A few minutes, yeah?” She was already walking backwards as he gave her the nod and turned around to jog through mud back to her house. A Grey Warden! Not stuck in Denerim, not rotting in a dungeon, a fucking Grey Warden.

The door fell shut loudly behind her, spooking her father.

“There you a- _Maker_ ,” Cyrion’s jaw dropped as he took in her appearance. “How did y- no, I know how. Kallian, I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

He looked as if he wanted to hug her, but the gore kept him from coming closer. “I can’t stay, Pa,” she said. “Duncan, the commander, well, he conscripted me to save me from the guards. I have to go. Now,” Kallian spoke in a rush.

He frowned and her heart fell. Of course it wasn’t what he wanted, but Maker be fucking damned she wanted it so bad. And it was already too late. It was happening whether he approved or not. She just wished he did.

“I… have to get my stuff. Shianni?” Her eyes flicked to the shared bed space.

“She’s there,” Cyrion answered. Then he was back to his pursed lips and crinkled brow.

Kallian pulled back the curtain and got a face full of red hair accompanied by a bone-crushing hug. “Cousin! They didn’t arrest you? Where’s Soris? What’s going on? Oh shit, I’m covered in… um.” Shianni’s questions came one after another until she pulled away with a sickened expression.

“Duncan’s making me a Grey Warden,” the first time saying it out loud, a grey warden, felt incredible, fucking magical or some shit. “We’re leaving for Ostagar, now!” She couldn’t help the excitement creeping into her words, and that’s when the guilt hit. “I don’t mean to leave you… like this.” Her blonde brows drew together, wondering how in the void she could be giddy when her cousin had just… been raped.

Shianni’s gaze was iron. “I’ll be fine, cousin. This is what you want. Go kick some ass.” Some light returned to her eyes then. “Actually change first. You look horrifying.”

Her cousin had more strength than Kallian knew.

Then she was pulling off the stolen arms and armour and digging out her mother’s old gear. Shirts and pants for under her armour, some old leather gloves, and Kallian’s well worn boots. She grabbed her rucksack, putting a few shirts in it and dropped the wedding ring deep inside the bag.

“Toss this.” She handed the balled up wedding dress to Shianni. “Or burn it,” Kallian added with a smirk.

“Now you look like a proper warden,” Shianni approved, giving Kallian a once-over.

Kallian wanted to scoff, knowing hand-me-downs and no solid weapon of her own didn’t cut an intimidating figure, but her cousin meant well. “No goodbyes?”

“No goodbyes,” her cousin confirmed, practically shooing Kallian out.

“You gonna be alright though?”

“Yes.”

That was all she needed to push her out the door. A lingering look at her father, wide brown eyes wishing for him to see this would make her happy. He closed his eyes, nodding slowly. Acceptance, if not happiness. She could live with that.

Outside the sun was bright, as if the horrors of the day had never happened. Her gait was almost a dance, leaping from each patch of dry ground to the next, blood pumping, stomach filled with butterflies.

“Ready to set out?” The Warden Commander addressed her as she got back to the gate.

She nodded vehemently, biting her bottom lip to hold back the smile threatening to overtake her. _Play it cool_. “Let’s go.”

Kallian Tabris. About to be a fucking Grey Warden.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sending out all the thanks and love to my fabulous bestest friend and beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) for her continued support, thoughtful insight and enthusiasm .
> 
> And sending out my love and thanks to those of you reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	3. Joining the Grey Wardens

Giddiness faded as the passed through not only the gates of the alienage but the large foreboding walls surrounding the city of Denerim. Behind her lay everything Kallian knew and loved. So eager to escape, but with no thought of any repercussions. 

This was really happening. 

“Should be about a ten day march to Ostagar,” Duncan momentarily broke her reverie.

“Sounds good!” She tried to sound upbeat, but felt her motions were wooden. 

Ten days? She had never travelled that long, let alone that distance. There were even places in Denerim she hadn’t ventured - the palace for starters; certainly not welcome there. Here she was walking down some dirt road, not knowing where she was at any given moment or where she was heading. It’s not as if Kallian just had maps laying around to look at. 

Her eyes didn't even remain on Duncan, instead flicking back and forth over their surroundings, farms and dirt roads, stretches of trees, the occasional wagon of a merchant or some other traveler passing by in the opposite direction. 

She had barely said goodbye. Her throat tightened and she squinted at the sun, blinking quickly. But they knew she loved them, knew she didn’t have a choice, right? What if she never saw her father, or her cousins again? Another family member disappeared, killed. Maker. There was nothing more Kallian could do - and she hated it. Because the truth was, killing Vaughan and his men did nothing. Kill fifty more men like them and it would still do nothing. Not for Shianni, who’d already have those memories branded on her mind, and not for all the other elves certain to suffer at the hands of men time and again. Kallian had still failed her. She hadn’t gotten there in time. She should have gotten  _ everyone _ out. And what good could she do now? Either strung up to die by the Arl or ushered from her home, conscripted, a green recruit into the complete unknown. She had definitely gotten the better deal, but Maker the guilt was weighing heavily. 

And sure, Kallian had some fight in her. The blood staining her hands and crusted beneath her nails was proof enough of that. Not to mention the cuts and scrapes that burned on her skin and bruises aching in her sides. But being a soldier, part of an army, fighting darkspawn… no matter her skill, it was so far removed from quick tussles in alleyways. By her own people’s reckoning, she wasn’t even technically considered an adult yet and here she was trying to be a Grey Warden. Trepidation clawed at her belly.

Guilt, fear, regret all clutched at her heart. Kallian had abandoned her family. Was it really for the best? The elf to wreak havoc on the Arl’s estate still walked free, alive, and ripped directly from the grasp of Denerim’s guards - they literally had her in their clutches! And now an entire alienage lay beneath Arl Urien’s reign. She sent a silent prayer to the Maker.  _ You’ve already given us a shitty lot; don’t you dare let anything happen to them _ . Perhaps she wasn’t meant to threaten the Maker himself but the sentiment was there. 

The twisting in her gut refused to ease up the longer they marched. No matter how much she tried to rationalize that she’d be dead otherwise, and that her family would end up fine… Shianni wasn’t fucking fine though. Deep down, Kallian feared her cousin would resent her for leaving at her biggest time of need. She had every right to. 

The first night making camp was awkward as she soon realized how woefully underprepared she was. Camping. Was she supposed to provide her own supplies? Would the wardens have these things for her? She hadn’t even fully taken in the sun going down, just marching endlessly staring at Duncan’s back, jogging once in a while to catch up to his longer strides that carried them further apart over time. Then he slung his rather cumbersome looking pack down off his shoulders and tossed a rolled up bundle in her direction which she reflexively caught.

“Bedroll is yours. Only one tent but we’ll be splitting watches anyway.” Duncan unfurled the mass of canvas that Kallian took to be the tent. “May as well help me pitch it. “

“Right.” Except the elf from the city didn’t know how to pitch a tent, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. 

Instead she dropped her bedroll, and fiddled with the scraps of cloth she’d tied in haste around her arm as bandages - actually she should probably wash those so she didn’t get an infection. All while watching Duncan hammer in the first spike into the loop of the tent, pulling the canvas taut along the ground as he moved. Okay, she could handle that. 

Then, however, came lifting and poles and she tried to move one only to have it topple in the other direction and knock what Duncan had just put up. Her face burned bright red. “Slipped out of my hands.”

“On three then, we pull up together,” he counted down and they both moved their respective poles up at the same time, leaving the roof of the canvas peaked, and standing steady. 

Generally she was good with her hands, picked things up quickly, and she hoped the next few nights she would not be repeating the fumbling with tent poles. At least Duncan made no comments. Probably expected a city girl like herself not to know how - that fucking shit. The way he invited her to help when he very well could have done it on his own. Sneaky commander, teaching her without really teaching. It worked on her so easily.

The man peered around, cocking his head as if waiting for… something. He appeared satisfied though by whatever he was looking or listening for and came back to start up the fire. “No need to hunt today, I’ve got some rations but it will be easiest if we never have to stop for long. We’re still days away. Water?” He offered her a canteen.

And hunting too. The most she’d ever done was catch a small rabbit, and she hadn’t made that trap, just found it and figured out how the spring worked on it. 

Wordlessly she took the waterskin, hissing as it stung her split lip. She dabbed some water onto a rag, wiping away the blood from her hands, and cleaning some of her cuts as best she could. Duncan just gave Kallian her space. They picked apart dried meat while Kallian stared into the flames. She almost wished he wouldn’t leave her with silence. The distraction would be welcome. 

“Will I be fighting right away? The darkspawn?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. We need every able-bodied fighter we have. I don’t imagine you’ve seen a darkspawn before,” he said.

“No… but I’m not afraid,” Kallian asserted. 

He smiled. “No, I expect you wouldn’t be. Still, do not forget to exercise caution.”

She frowned. “I know that. Just saying, they die like anything else, yeah?” 

“That they do…” Duncan trailed off, looking to the starry sky. “It’s been a long day though. I suggest you get some rest. We have much ground to cover tomorrow. I’ll keep first watch.”

Kallian nodded. Her eyes felt heavy and her body was sore. Crawling into the small tent, she sat there for a moment, staring at the canvas walls and feeling a bit lost. The bedroll smelled weird, the ground was lumpy and everything was too still - too different. 

While also normally a deep sleeper, she found herself frequently waking up that night, and the next several after that. Not her familiar bed, the sounds of nature replacing her typical ambiance of the city. Old cuts being rubbed the wrong way as she moved restlessly in her bed. Each time she woke up it was a fresh reminder of all she had left behind. Knowing all that was behind her was death didn’t make it any easier to dispel the guilt and find some peace somewhere in the fade. 

If she wasn’t sleeping well, however, Duncan was sleeping less by her estimates - and they were rather good ones. There was no way he was splitting their watches evenly. Kallian felt far too rested than to have been woken up halfway through her slumber, factoring in her restless nights, she should have been much more tired. Not to mention it was rather hard to ignore the tossing and turning of the man when she was awake. Yet their fast pace remained the same - due south, constant, eating dried meat and hard bread as they marched unrelentlessly. His footsteps never faltered and Duncan never looked tired or strained. Was this a warden thing? Truth in the tales of their endless stamina? 

The questions began to pile up, and as the distance between the city elf and Denerim grew, the desire for isolation shrank. 

“Why me?” she finally pestered him, now walking at his side rather than the man’s back. “What exactly about a skinny blonde elf screams ‘warden material’ to you?” she posed the question sarcastically. It wasn’t a question if she had the skill, more about how he saw it in her without ever witnessing it. Kallian’s looks where what more often got her _ underestimated _ to her enemy’s detriment or as fuel for some spitting anger. 

“While it wouldn't have been my ideal choice to have to conscript you the way I had, there's talent in your family. Or did your mother not pass down her skills with the blades to you?” 

She stopped in her tracks for a second, and now her wide brown eyes focused back on the warden in front of her. She jogged lightly to catch up to his side, peering up at him. “You knew my mother?”

“Adaia? Yes. Vicious with a blade. I confess I had tried to recruit her but she had a family and your Hahren talked me out of that quite quickly. Would it trouble you to know I'd hoped to recruit  _ you _ before Valendrian could sway me out of that too?”

Her heart sped up. Had he actually come specifically for her? “Trouble me?” Kallian laughed then, gleeful in her newly conscripted position. “Fucking wish you'd come sooner. Be out of there before all that shit…” Her smile faded from her eyes for a moment. Too fast to revel in her own joy. The body of her betrothed left behind… Shianni… Kallian fingered the metal band in her pocket, slipping it onto her finger - the one small thing she had managed to take with her in the chaos of getting away. She wouldn't forget. 

Duncan nodded, looking towards the setting sun with a hand hovering over his eyes. “Maybe so, but had you not been there… perhaps things might have turned out worse. We cannot know. In any case,” he turned back to the small elf at his side, “we can walk a bit further then make camp. Only a few more days to Ostagar. Then we can get you properly outfitted.”

Kallian didn't miss the way his eyes strayed down to her stolen dagger. And her other one had broken. Of course when she was about to join an order of fighters is when her old dagger breaks and a deal goes south on a new one. Sure as shit would have looked a lot better to go walking into the wardens with that steel beauty strapped to her hip. 

They did settle down for a night's rest when the sun finally disappeared from view behind the treeline. In front of a crackling fire, Kallian resumed her questioning.

“How did you know her?” 

“Your mother, you mean?” When Kallian nodded, he continued. “We crossed paths once, an adventure of sorts. To say I was impressed by her would be an understatement. We worked well together. There was a ferocity in her, a lust for the fight that one doesn't often see.”

While it ached to hear of her dead mother, it was soothed over much by actually hearing about her skill, her talent. That topic was shut down in the Tabris household once Adaia had passed. Even Kallian's own continued practice was then frowned upon. Now to finally hear of it openly, mind running with what Adaia had been doing with a Grey Warden. She hadn't mentioned it. Plenty of things Kallian imagined her mother planned to tell her when she was older, but the time had run out too quickly.

“So what happened? What kind of adventure?” She pressed him, eagerly.

“We happened to cross paths when she was, shall we say, caught in a bit of an altercation.” He rubbed his chin, the glaze over his eyes speaking to how he was replaying the memories. “I thought to intervene but,” he chuckled, “it turns out I wasn’t needed. She handled herself quite well. Well enough that I thought to ask her for help… an investigation.”

Kallian nodded, anticipation for the juicy details.

“As I’m sure you know, Adaia knew her way about the city, and how to get around unnoticed. Her help turned out to be invaluable. In the end I thought to recruit her. Alas, it was not to be so.” There was more of that hidden mischief just behind his eyes. “A certain village elder seemed fit to make sure she was married off before she could be whisked away.”

She snorted. So Valendrian had some sort of vendetta or something. Make sure all the alienage women are happily… or unhappily… married rather than lose one of their own. But Duncan still wasn’t telling her everything. “What sort of investigation? With the Wardens?” 

“Ah well, that, I believe, is a story for later. Look ahead, Kallian, Ostagar awaits.”

Her feet had stopped being sore days ago and had become just a mass of throbbing. Cuts started to heal over and her lip was no longer stiff and swollen. Nights under the open sky became a welcomed relief from the day’s marching rather than foreboding as her weary feet begged for rest. And finally they were here. 

From the peak of the hill Kallian could see crumbling towers and an expanse of tents and banners spread on the land below. Beyond the ruins the grey mists of the Korcari Wilds loomed - even in daylight the swamps were dark, the gnarly trees with claws reaching out as if to grab the unwary traveller straight from the road.

Her attention snapped back to the human commander, already ten steps ahead of her and once more she was jogging to catch up to him. 

He looked down at her. “I have some matters to -”

“Hail Duncan!” A blonde human in brilliant golden armour blocked their path. 

“Your Majesty,” Duncan bowed his head, but didn’t drop to a knee.

This was King Cailan! Though he lived in Denerim, the capital of Ferelden, he certainly never made it anywhere close enough to the poorer areas of the city for Kallian to see him up close. Why would he?

“The Wardens needn’t bow to me,” the king was jovial for someone in the midst of what was supposed to be a war against the darkspawn. His gaze lowered to Kallian. “And now who’s this? Newest recruit to the mighty Grey Wardens? From where do you hail, Warden?” He turned his gaze to Kallian.

The fucking king was addressing her? She was not shy, nor ashamed. Her chin raised up and she met his eyes. “From Denerim’s Alienage. You might have heard of it,” she couldn’t keep the wryness out of her tone. 

“Are you really? I confess my advisors have forbid me going there. What is it like? Do you like it there?” Genuine curiosity only spoke to Kallian of genuine ignorance - ignorance for what happened in his own kingdom, his own city. He really had no fucking clue of the shitshow she had barely managed to get away from. 

Her jaw clenched. “Maybe your advisors should work on forbidding the other nobles of the city the same. Might prevent all the kidnapping and rape.” Her final words were vehemently spat. 

King Cailan reeled, blinking in surprise and wallowing for a moment before recollecting himself into the confident ease with which he presented himself. “Yes, well… this sounds of something I should look more closely into when we return miss… your name?”

“Kallian,” she said curtly, certain he wouldn’t recall. He had no reason to. 

He straightened. “Well wardens, we have a glorious battle to prepare for, do we not? And we  _ will _ defeat the darkspawn here. With the King’s army and Grey Wardens together - There can be no defeat!”

“Your Majesty, please, the archdemon could still show up,” said Duncan.

“We’ve seen no sign of the beast yet. I’m not even sure if this is a  _ true _ Blight.” 

Duncan looked ready to argue the point but a messenger came to the king and murmured into his ear. “Ah, Loghain needs to see me yet again.  _ More _ planning.” Was it just Kallian or did the king seem not entirely concerned about the very real battle they were supposed to be having. “I keep telling him he worries too much. The Grey Warden numbers increase every day. There shall be glory for all, don’t you worry about that.” And he was off with a gleaming grin.

Daft.

“Is it really such an easy fight?” She asked as soon as King Cailan was out of earshot. 

Duncan rubbed his bearded chin. “We have claimed victory over every battle so far.” 

Not really an answer. 

“But the archdemon… you still think it’s going to show? How do you know this is actually a Blight?”

“In due time… I need to see to some matters of my own. Find Alistair, a junior warden in our ranks. He’ll get you and the other recruits ready for the Joining. And do  _ try _ to curb your tongue a bit. That is the king after all.”

“He asked, I answered.” Her blonde brows crinkled in the middle of her forehead. “Wait, what do you mean? What’s this about a joining and-” She turned and Duncan was already briskly walking towards the field of tents. She could just make out some blue banners waving among them. “Well fine, fuck me, I guess.”

Once Kallian crossed the stone bridge she had to immediately ask for directions from a nearby soldier. She didn’t miss the way his eyes strayed to her ears but he still answered her questions, thankfully. 

An army camp preparing for battle was just as hectic as market days in Denerim. And thanks to being used to slipping among people, hands flitting to their waistbands and disappearing just as quickly, Kallian maneuvered between the marching soldiers and errant messengers with ease. 

She pulled up short when a glimmer in the air drew her eye. Men and women in robes stood in a circle, entirely absorbed in incantations and waving hands. The air surrounding them shimmered with energy. Mages. Kallian stared with open interest. 

“They’re accessing the Fade,” a woman at her shoulder answered her unspoken question. White hair pulled into a severe ponytail and lines creasing her eyes - was this old lady here to fight? Surely she couldn’t be. 

“I didn’t know they would have mages here.”

“Oh yes, on occasion it’s seen fit to let us magic users stretch our legs,” she said wryly. “I am Wynne. And you,” she glanced at Kallian’s armour, “must be one of Duncan’s new recruits? We’d heard he would be returning with someone new.” 

“I am.” Her chin jutted forward proudly. 

“Perhaps I shall see you on the field, then. But don’t let an old woman keep you.”

An effective dismissal as any. But not wrong. 

They did have a battle to prepare for as everyone around her kept mentioning. The soldiers gathered around a chantry sister for prayers spoke loudly enough to that. Prayers would do no good though. If Kallian was really going to be fighting tonight, what she needed was to get another decent blade, and to find this Alistair. 

Different noises and shouts kept drawing her attention in opposite directions. Moans of the injured, barking dogs, people calling out directions and orders for this and that. 

“Find Alistair. Just  _ find _ him. Not like the camp is huge with shems screaming about,” she muttered, feeling more and more frustrated that she struggled to find her way around. 

And there were the mages again. “Fuck!” It was all a bloody maze! 

She wandered off in a different direction this time until she stumbled across a shoddy sign that read ‘quartermaster’ and once more she was stopped before reaching this Alistair. She fingered her stolen dagger, glancing at the other empty sheath on her belt. She only had a handful of coppers, but maybe she could barter. One dagger was enough to get by yes, but she had been trained with two. 

“ _ You, _ ” the man pointed a finger at her as soon as she walked up, “useless knife-ear. Where’s that delivery? I’ve been waiting over an hour!” 

Humiliation washed over Kallian as she blinked dumbly and raised an eyebrow at the pot-bellied man. Was he serious? 

“Are you stupid or something? You’ll not get paid for not doing work!”

The man thought her a servant. Sharp ears poking out from beneath her blonde hair was all he saw. Anger flared white hot, thin lips twisted into a dangerous smirk and she squared her shoulders. “And do all your servants bear arms and armour? Or just the stupid ones?” Oh, this was far too satisfying. “I’m a Grey Warden.” 

No, what was even more satisfying was watching his face go from red in anger to white as a sheet. “I’m… terribly sorry. You just… I mean didn’t realize…” His stuttering was even better.

“You? A Grey Warden?” A lean man in leathers asked. He was flanked by a barrel chested human with a large greatsword strapped to his back. “Don’t tell me they take little elves like you into the order.”

Anger was back again, strong as ever.

“Duncan didn't mention she'd be well, a  _ she _ ,” his companion spoke.

“Never seen a girl before?” Sarcasm bled through every word of hers. “Didn't think they took scrawny boys like you into the order,” she jabbed right back.

“I happen to be quick on my feet. Resourceful, Duncan said.” His eyes glinted. “Besides, well…” his eyes roamed her body, “Elves aren't even allowed to carry weapons, are they?”

“Strange… I wonder how I got this.” Kallian feigned ignorance as she casually spun her dagger by the hilt up into her hand. Inside though she was brewing a hot batch of anger. Elves  _ couldn' _ t carry weapons in the alienage, and she could tell by the way he paused he was even less convinced by the fact she was a girl. A proper girl from the alienage got married, made babies and did things like sewing and washing, and  _ serving _ . “You'll have to go tell Duncan he made a mistake then.” 

Now he was backpedalling, “I only meant it’s unusual, is all. Don't see many women… elves… well your kind fighting. I mean, I'm not much one to talk. He conscripted me after I got caught pickpocketing. Speed and agility were valuable to have, he said.”

“Except when you get caught, isn't that right Daveth? I'm terribly sorry for our rudeness. Only caught us off guard. I'm sure Duncan saw you would make a fine Grey Warden. I am Ser Jory.”

So Daveth and Jory were the idiot’s names. Her eyes swept over the two of them again and she stepped closer, a fake smile now spreading innocently. “Call me Kallian.” She took the hand of Daveth and stepped into the handshake, her free hand deftly unhooking a pouch from his belt. 

Idiots always underestimate the sweet-faced girl. Now she could fund her weapon upgrade. Come to think of it, it would have been that much more satisfying if she had managed to nick the coin off the quartermaster's belt - pay him with his own fucking coin. 

Kallian was even more glad now for the chance to get a decent dagger for her empty sheath. She didn't want to put herself at any disadvantage to prove herself. And she  _ would _ prove herself. It wasn't much, but the iron dagger was better than nothing. Nothing like that bone handled dagger she'd intended to buy, she thought wistfully. Maker, was that already over a week ago? 

Now the quartermaster was suddenly very eager to please her - make up for his terrible rudeness as he put it. And she soon had a shiny iron dagger on her belt at no cost to her own pitifully empty coin purse. 

“Now could either of you point me in the direction of Alistair?”

Jory nodded, “Just keep heading in that direction and you should find him. Don't bother asking him about the Joining, though. Wouldn't tell us much of anything.”

Daveth guffawed still chattering loudly as she left them both behind. “It's obvious isn't it? Some sort of rite of passage - defeat our first darkspawn.”

Rite of passage, hm? As she walked, she tested the dagger’s weight in her hand, giving a spin of the hilt before putting it back into the sheath. Just having the second one made her feel more balanced, and not just because of the extra bit of weight at both her hips. Now she could really show those  _ boys _ what she was made of.

More steps up another set of ruins with wooden signs leading to strategy tables and other conflagrations. 

A pair of humans were talking - one broad shouldered, light hair and a large shield strapped to his back, the other in robes. With the way their volume kept increasing, it sounded more like an argument.

“I’m only trying to deliver a message from the revered Mother. She requires your presence.”

“I’m under no obligation to go wherever her Reverence may or may not require me. I am here to assist the Grey Wardens under the  _ king’s _ orders.”

“Perhaps she should have just written a note,” the younger man sassed right back.

“You can go tell her I refuse to be harassed in this manner!”

“Yes,  _ I _ was harassing  _ you _ by delivering a message.”

Kallian snorted. It was exactly what she would have said in this man’s place. 

The one in robes - had to be a mage - shook his head. “And your tone does you no credit either, Alistair.”

So this was the Alistair she’d been looking for. A large man by her standards but he didn't look too much older than Kallian was.

Alistair raised his eyebrow and scoffed dismissively which had Kallian smirking even more as she approached. “I really thought we were becoming good friends. I could name my firstborn after you - the Grumpy One.”

The mage was already walking away looking even more disgruntled than he’d started off. 

“Really?” Kallian said. “You’re going with ‘The Grumpy One’?” 

As she walked up to him he laughed wryly. “Yes, well, I keep saying; one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”

Kallian snorted. “You know I've been looking at it exactly the same way.” Her tone matched his sarcasm. “You’re Alistair, then?”

He blinked, and focused on her ears, then taking in the rest of her. Isn't that how it always seemed to go? “Sorry, do I know you? Do you have a message for me or something?”

Grinding her teeth together, she crossed her arms. “No, I don’t have a message for you, shem. Duncan told me to come find you.”

Understanding and embarrassment flashed across his face as he tried to pull back. “Right! Sorry. Of course you’re the new recruit Duncan was bringing. I mean, I didn’t expect  _ you _ , but I mean, yes, he brought someone - brought you. Good. He’s back then is he?”

“What’s not to expect about me?” She challenged him with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“Not unexpected, just, don’t see many,” again his eyes moved from hers to just slightly to the side - her ears, “ _ women _ in the Grey Wardens.”

Women? Or elves? Probably both, she wagered. With every fucking person getting their shit pushed in because she, a female elf, had an actual weapon and somehow made it into the Grey Wardens. Seemed she wasn’t going to find comrades among the wardens she’d met so far. “Obviously too busy making babies and all that shit.” Bitterness coated her words. “Gotta conscript us before our families take over our entire lives.” Was that how Adaia had felt having Kallian? The thought had only idly struck her but now confronted her with a question she’d never thought to ask. 

Alistair started walking back the way she’d come in, gesturing for her to follow. “Best to get you lot prepared for the Joining. Seeing as I’m the junior warden, it’s up to me to take you through it all.” 

Again with this mysterious joining. She watched his lips momentarily purse and he shifted the topic back to conscription before she could press the matter on the Joining. 

“Were you? Conscripted that is? I don’t know if you met Daveth and Jory - the other recruits - but Daveth said he was too. Not sure what Duncan sees in that cutpurse.”

“Ended up that way, yeah.” Not about to spill her whole story to this shem - he was just like all the rest. Especially after he clearly had such disdain for anybody who had to find other means to earn some coin. “You’d be surprised what a cutpurse can do with a knife.” 

“Right… I’m sure there must be a reason… Anyway, me too, I was conscripted, that is. But that’s only because the chantry was trying to keep me as a templar. Don’t know why they did, but anyway… Duncan’s a good man. I’m sure he made the right choice.” 

Even if she wasn’t feeling particularly warm towards this human, her curiosity had been piqued. “You’re a templar? You hunted mages?”

“ _ Ex _ -templar. And that’s not all we do. I hadn’t taken my vows yet. Only a templar-in-training. I hated it anyway. But the Grey Wardens. They’re… something else. Trust me. After the Joining…” Again, there was that awkward pause. “Well, after… you won’t find anyone questioning a woman in the Wardens. You’re one of us. And,” he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t be. I have a habit of sticking my foot in my mouth. It’ll be nice to have a girl around. Not that I’m looking at you like you’re a girl - not that you  _ aren’t _ one. Maker’s breath. Just shut me up.”

His awkward stumbling gave Kallian some reason to lessen her ire towards him. Still, words were one thing. He thought she was a fucking messenger! “Just give me something to sink my blades into.” She let her confidence pour forth. Whatever anybody thought of her, she would show them exactly what a girl could do - what an elf could do - when given the damn chance. “I met the others. They said we’d be killing some darkspawn soon, yeah? Is that part of this Joining thing you keep getting all weird about?”

“I- yes- but I can’t say anymore. Not until. Just  _ after _ .”

“After what? What is the bloody Joining?”

“We need to get darkspawn blood. In the wilds. You’ll find out the rest  _ after _ .”

“Good chat. Really a great mentor or whatever the fuck you're supposed to be.” Her eyes narrowed at him as they walked. People were allowed to have their secrets - Kallian had her own too - but she was joining the sodding wardens. Wasn't this the stuff she had a right to know about? 

“Look, I get it. I'm sorry I can't tell you more and I know it doesn't help when I say you'll know soon but you will.  _ Soon _ .” Alistair's face was earnest even if he wouldn't spill. 

She snorted. “Sure. I'm not saying -” A sharp gasp of awe left her when they walked past a paddock. “Mabari.” Her feet were pulled in that direction as if being tugged by a magical force. She had to see them. “I didn't know they had Mabari here!”

“Amazing aren't they?” Alistair jumped at the chance to move to any topic that wasn't the Joining. The enthusiasm was genuine though, appreciating the breed like any true Fereldan would. “Always wanted one but my... well I couldn't have them in the Abbey.”

“If you’re so eager to get up close to a mabari, maybe you can help.” The kennel master loped towards them. “Owner died and he won’t let anyone else near him. I keep saying that I’m only trying to help, but,” he shrugged, “They’re stubborn as they are smart.”

“So, it growls at you every time you go near it, what makes you think I’d do any better?” Kallian raised a single eyebrow at the man. She wasn’t about to be on the receiving end of that toothy bite. 

“I just need an extra hand to muzzle him while I administer the medicine. I’d do it by myself if I could.” The kennel master looked rather forlorn. “He’ll likely die by tomorrow even with the medicine. It’s not enough to cure the taint.”

“He’s tainted? Like from darkspawn? Well… alright then. I’ll give it a go.”

“Who knows, maybe he’ll even imprint on you,” the man smiled encouragingly. 

Alistair’s eyebrows went up. “Just don’t go and get your hand chewed off. I hear we need those.”

The Mabari did growl low in its throat when she got near him, but she kept her gaze trained on its eyes until, surprisingly, it bowed its head down and stilled with the restless pacing. “There’s a good boy,” she cooed. With much caution in her slow and steady movements, she muzzled the beast. “You said the medicine won’t be enough? So won’t he die anyway?” She backed out of the enclosure as she spoke.

“There’s a flower in the Korcari Wilds that can be used to heal the taint, but with the darkspawn horde approaching I can’t exactly send anyone out to get it.”

Yet apparently  _ they _ were heading into the wilds anyway. “I could get it,” she blurted impulsively. If there was a chance to save the Mabari, well, it was obvious how Fereldan Kallian was when she felt so much for the dog. “Tell me what it looks like - we’re going anyway.”

He gave her a description of a flower with yellow petals, found among the hills. Maybe she wouldn’t find it, but she could at least keep an eye out. 

“Speaking of the wilds, best find the others now. Duncan will want to get started,” said Alistair.

“With the Joining. The thing you can’t tell me anything at all about. Great.”

“Look, ask me about anything else, I’ll answer it, okay?”

Kallian pursed her lips. As always curiosity won out and she relented. “Fine then. How do you even know this is a Blight?” The king wasn’t even entirely convinced and everyone always said darkspawn hadn’t been seen on the surface in years. “How did anyone even know it was all the way out here in the wilds to begin with?”

“The Grey Wardens… we can  _ feel _ it. You’ll understand if you… after the Joining.”

Again, stopped by the stupid joining. Kallian sighed with irritation. “Well what about the battle tomorrow? I get to fight in that? How do we even end a Blight?” As soon as one question was answered, three more poured forth.

Alistair almost didn’t know where to begin. “The rest of the wardens will be part of the vanguard with King Cailan. I don’t know if you’ll be part of it to be honest.” He fixed her with a wry smile. “As for  _ ending _ a Blight. What, you don’t know? It was an elf, after all, that ended the last one. Garahel. A single final battle in Antiva where he slew the archdemon - that’s how you end a Blight. Without an archdemon, the darkspawn have no one to follow, and they return underground.”

Kallian blinked, her mind already racing. This was news to her. All the stories Valendrian told and none of them were about an elven Grey Warden - an actual fucking elven hero. Shouldn’t the elves of her alienage know that story? Did the elder really have so much distaste for the wardens that he couldn’t even share a tale of victory? Could have told those kids about Garahel rather than making some stupid shit up. 

“Where was Garahel from? An alienage? The Fourth Blight was in Antiva, right? So was he Antivan?”

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair chuckled. “Do you ever run out of questions?” 

“Nope.” Kallian popped the ‘p’ and gave him a cheeky grin. “Well?” She prodded.

But Duncan was eager to get on with it apparently, as they approached the fire he stood by. Jory and Daveth were already there. More stories would have to wait til later, it seemed. “I see you found Alistair, good. Now to get the Joining underway. What I require of you, is to get three vials of darkspawn blood. Yes,” Duncan turned to Daveth who already looked wary, “in the wilds.”

“I’ll be going with you as well,” Alistair had joined Duncan’s side. 

“What is this, like a rite of passage thing? Prove you can kill a darkspawn?” Kallian asked.

Alistair hid a grin behind his hand as she continued with her interrogation of the wardens. 

“The blood is vital for the ritual, but the task of retrieving it is as much a part of the ceremony itself.” 

“Have we not already proven ourselves?” Jory muttered to himself. 

“Finally some fighting,” her cocky tone was accompanied by casually crossing her arms. Kallian was ready to show up every human here. “Point me in the direction Alistair.”

“There is one other task I must ask of you when you go. In some old ruins, there is a cache with important documents - sealed to anyone but Grey Wardens. Treaties that we may need,” Duncan pushed on, a glimmer still in his eyes at Kallian’s remarks. 

“Why put important treaties way out in the wilds in some crumbling ruins? ‘Remember those important treaties? Yes, we’ve kept them in the safest place - the wilds’ I mean, really?” Alistair really seemed to love sass and sarcasm.

“I expect someone meant to go back for them but… alas, things have not always gone as planned. Anyway, off you go, before it gets too late,” said Duncan. 

Alistair nodded and led them over to the gates where a solemn guard let them through with the customary ‘Maker watch over you’ and they descended into the dusk. 

“I wouldn’t be so eager if I were you. I remember seeing my first darkspawn.” Alistair visibly shuddered. “They’re horrible… monstrous things.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Kallian scoffed. Though the sentiment did no credit to make her sound any more mature than she was. 

The spoken words didn’t do anything to suppress the revulsion and horror Kallian actually felt when they came upon their first small group of darkspawn. Skin pulled so tight to their skulls they looked more skeletal than alive. Their wide eyes stared, soulless empty beings with a thirst for the kill. The way their jaws stretched open almost looked a creepy imitation of a grin, were it not for the long pointed fangs bared back to reveal blackened tongues as they hollered war cries. Everything about them looked wrong. Like someone had tried to put together a person but hadn’t actually seen one, and was doing it based just on vague description. Ears were holes, skin mottled black, and they emanated a foul stench Kallian could smell as the first one came upon her. 

Instinct was a blessed thing. Her eyes may have gone impossibly big, but her hand still reached for her dagger and brought it up in time to stop a blackened, crude blade from hacking down across her shoulder. Kallian barely even heard the shouts of the other men. The darkspawn snarled again, spittle spraying from it’s barely-there lips and with it the aroma of death. It was enough to fill anyone with dread. 

Kallian grunted and kicked a boot out, slamming into it’s stomach to throw it off balance and give her time to get her head back in place. “You’re dead, fucker.” She didn’t even know if darkspawn understood speech. She drew her other blade and lunged. The darkspawn fell for the feint easily - apparently they weren’t all that smart - and she ducked left, hacking at it’s shoulder with one hand then swiftly stepping behind it to sink her other blade into the back of its neck. The sickening gurgle was accompanied by spurts of dark blood - black and tainted. 

It fell and Kallian felt a thrill of elation surge up her chest. She let out a victorious whoop. Laughing even, to the surprise of her companions. A crooked grin on her lips, she sheathed her blood coated daggers. “Hand me a vial.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let's chat in the comments! And a million thank yous to my beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) and to all of you following along with this story <3


	4. Tainted Blood

“Wouldn’t have thought such a small thing like yourself would be capable of that kind of… viciousness.” Jory actually looked wary of her.

Kallian snorted and rolled her eyes. Exactly what the shems at the Arl’s estate had probably thought before their own lives were ended. “Part of my charm.” So were snide remarks.

Alistair pulled out the vials for all three of them. The blood oozed into the glass, blackened with taint - she could see the very corruption. Kallian stoppered it with a cork and wrinkled her nose as she gingerly tucked the vial into the small pouch on her belt. 

“We’re lucky it was only a small band of them this time, is my only thought. Your ‘charm’ won’t be enough if we come across part of the horde. There’s only four of us against hundreds of them! I’m not a coward, but those aren’t good odds.” Ser Jory seemed to have a permanent crease in his brow as his eyes darted among the trees as if expecting darkspawn to sprout from the ground around them. 

Alistair adjusted his kiteshield over his back, unconcerned. “That’s why I’m here. Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn. We won’t be coming across the horde today. We’ll have plenty of warning before coming across them. Trust me.”

Daveth barked sharp laughter. “So even though the odds are against us, we’ll know well ahead of time.”

“We ought to go find those documents now. Even if I can sense the darkspawn, we don’t want to be out here longer than necessary.”

The wheels in Kallian’s mind were turning as she ignored the chatter. The ritual wasn’t just some formality, or hazing, or rite of passage - there had to be magic involved. There was no other way to explain Alistair’s ability. A creeping sensation went up her spine. The darkspawn blood was a part of it - part of the spell, the ritual, whatever it was. Something that linked Grey Wardens to whatever it was they were sensing; a darkspawn’s... essence? She didn’t know. Suddenly she wasn’t as keen on finding out what they needed that blackened blood for.

However it worked, Alistair did sense more darkspawn as they delved deeper into the swamplands. All small groups that they felled easily enough, with minor bumps and scrapes that came with any scrap, but the further they went, the sooner they seemed to stumble across the next group. Were they getting too close to the horde? At least she had remembered to get that flower for the mabari - if only because she’d ended up taking cover behind a tree beside which it was growing. 

Howling interrupted her thoughts and all four of them tensed in preparation for another fight. The tainted creatures weren’t the only things lurking in the trees: wolves were hunting. Just as Kallian was bending her knees to leap at the first wolf barrelling towards her, two more came at each side of their group. Large jaws clamped around the leather bracer on her forearm, and she screamed as she was yanked to the ground by the surprising strength of the animal. Her vision was reduced to all fur and teeth as another wolf jumped on top of her and she thrashed beneath it. Claws raked at her armour, and her heels dug into the ground trying to find the purchase to get away, rolling to one side but a wolf once more yanked her back by the arm and she was pinned. She tried to shove her dagger up into the beast but it growled and its jaws were almost at her throat. It was all Kallian could do to just hold it back, with her forearm braced up against its jaw, grunting as she struggled.

A sword ran through its stomach and then a heavy boot kicked the side of the other wolf’s head, making it scramble away whimpering. Her left arm was still braced against the now dead wolf’s throat and she pushed the animal off her, chest heaving. It was Alistair above her, holding out a hand which she took, feeling her pulse thundering even in her fingertips. “They’re bigger than I expected,” she said weakly.

“Are you hurt?” Alistair asked.

“No.” She scowled, more than anything just annoyed that she had been taken down so easily.

“Good that’s… You’ve never seen a wolf?” said Alistair.

“Well, I mean, not up close!” Kallian sputtered. “I’m from fucking Denerim, the only animals you see in the alienage are mangy dogs, stray cats, and fucking... rabbits and birds and shit.”

“Denerim girl, are you?” Daveth chimed in. “Gotta watch your coin in that place. Cutpurses everywhere, I tell ya.” He winked conspiratorially.

“And  _ cutpurses _ need to watch out for guards, yeah? We can't always depend on Duncan to bail us out.”

“You too?” Daveth held a low hanging tree branch out of the way, letting Kallian pass while giving her another up and down look. “I can see it. Small, light on your feet, and an innocent face - that always helps.”

Kallian flashed him a smile. “That and knowing who was easy. There was this one merchant: bald, fat as a-”

“A hog? With beady little eyes and the sweatiest-”

“The fucking  _ sweatiest _ back! Yes!” Kallian dissolved into giggles and Daveth’s snickering joined in. 

They were loudly trading stories as the walked, uncaring of how their voices rose and announced their presence to anyone around them.

“-And the best part was when she started accusing the woman right beside her. So I thought, fuck it, and snatched that woman’s shit too while she was distracted.” 

“I’m surprised Duncan would look to… that he would find recruits with such particular talents,” Jory chimed in.

“We can’t all be blessed with honourable knighthood, can we?” Kallian snapped. She hated more than anything a ‘holier than thou’ attitude. Maybe if elves were actually allowed weapons and to be something other than a fucking labourer, then they could be knights too. As if knighthood made him something special, something  _ better _ . 

“I earned my place.” Jory puffed up his chest comically. “I won the grand tourney in Highever and proved myself to Duncan just as any of you lot did.”

Proved himself. Kallian proved herself by cutting through half the men in the Arl’s estate and then the very Arl’s son. Her whole fucking life was proving herself - just to outmatch the thugs and outwit guards so she could earn some coppers. How many times would she  _ still _ have to prove herself? Not worth her time to start calling out this human on human bullshit right now. Shianni would have started in on her rant right now, the fucking loud mouth. Her stomach hollowed out and she forced her eyes to the path ahead.

Their environment chose that moment to remind Kallian she was far from her own home, as flies buzzed around her head and she clamped her mouth shut. “Fucking nasty swamp.” A black bird cawed, wings flapping loudly as it soared just above her head. “Gah!” She ducked. Definitely a city girl. 

“Quiet,” Alistair said sharply as he held a hand up and stopped the group from going any further.

Swarms of flies grew thicker, buzzing around an old marble moss covered archway. The ruins were a sick display of strung up corpses. Half of them were rotting with grey skin, flesh hanging off the bones, and festering old wounds that never got a chance to heal before they were killed. 

“Andraste's tits,” Kallian choked out. Her forearm covered her mouth and nose but the smell of rot still wafted towards her. 

“It's a warning,” said Alistair.

“How thoughtful.” Daveth spoke exactly the words Kallian was thinking. 

Jory stared solemnly. “Those poor sods. Should we cut them down? Find another way?” 

Kallian wasn't about to go anywhere near those dead bodies - they were disgusting - and pretty obviously a way to get caught in an ambush while they fiddled with knives and rope. 

“The ruins are just up that way. We can't go back without the documents for Duncan.” Alistair’s mouth twisted and there was pity in his eyes when he looked at the strung up men again. “There's nothing we can do for them now.” He did that same thing as Duncan, cocking his head, squinting a little in concentration. “There's more up ahead than the last group, I think, but we can handle it. Be ready and on alert. Darkspawn are more powerful in numbers and more deadly with ambushes.”

Kallian nodded, her heart quickening as she drew her pair of daggers. They crept along the side of the archway, not disturbing the hanging corpses. Some iron animal traps were sporadically deployed along the ground. Luckily they weren't animals and the traps were pretty easy to see in the grass.

Alistair let out a strangled yelp and iron closed around his left ankle.

“Are you serious?” Kallian had just enough time to yell when the assault began. 

Arrows hit the ground in front of them and Alistair ducked holding his shield in front of himself while Kallian crouched behind the bulk of his body. They both desperately pulled at the clamps, doing nothing to open it. His ankle was saved by the greaves he wore, but that didn't help with actually freeing him. She shifted, trying to stay low while wiggling her boot onto the spring that would pop the trap back open.

Heat scorched the area around them, an explosion knocking Kallian on her ass while orange flame bloomed outwards, searing her skin red.

“Emissary!” Alistair shouted. “Just go!”

“What?” 

And then bolts of lightning went scattering across the field, jumping erratically and pulling shouts from Daveth and Jory as they took the hits. A tall darkspawn glided backwards, a ball of glowing energy forming again between its grizzled hands.

“They can use magic?!”  _ What the fuck? _

She spared a glance at Alistair, who still fiddled with the release mechanism, his own weight in the trap keeping it closed around his ankle. He shouted again, more frantic, “Go!” 

Her eyes widened as she ran out of the way of another fireball. Kallian turned to her other comrades. “We have to-” But they were gone, chasing the archers down to stop the assault of arrows at her and Alistair. “Sodding shit.”

Kallian ran, facing the magic darkspawn head on. She had no choice. Alistair was down, Jory and Daveth were surrounded by their own foes, and every second they waited, the more this - emissary? - could hurl destructive magic at them. And running made her the new primary target. Electricity ripped through her, pulling her to her knees several feet before her attacker. All her muscles tensed at once as she cried out. And then it glided further away as soon as she was incapacitated. “Daveth!” She needed range, a distraction. How else was anyone supposed to get close? “Da- Hnggg!” She dropped again with more electric current passing through her muscles, even her jaw clenching as she rode it out. 

Kallian panted, more winded after the second time, a hand planted in the grass as she tried to get her wobbly legs to obey her again. “Alis-” Her shout for him died in her throat as she turned and saw him still stuck in the middle of the open field. 

An arrow landed in a tree. Another whizzed past the darkspawn’s head - enough for it to train it’s eyes on the new target. Daveth, with a bloodied temple, was nocking another arrow. 

Adrenaline surged through Kallian’s body as she picked herself up again and ran. Her blades pierced through the layers of tattered cloth, into the emissary’s back. It shrieked and a wave of energy burst out from its body. Kallian tumbled backwards once more, while bolts of magic weakened her and sent her head spinning. She staggered to her feet again, dodging sluggishly out of the way of another stream of fire, hot on the heels of her boots. An arrow ripped through its shoulder and Kallian lunged at that same side, grabbing onto that arrow and digging it in harder where it hurt. Flames started to burn at her leathers but she gritted her teeth and jabbed her dagger three times in quick succession. More shrieking and then silence.

Kallian’s chest heaved, and her shoulders slumped. That was too close.

“Got it! I’ve got it,” Alistair called as he straightened up.

She whirled around on him. “A trap? A sodding bloody piece of shit trap? Are you shitting me right now? How does that even happen?”

He rubbed the back of his head, red rising up in his face. “Giving the rest of you a chance to prove yourselves without my help?”

One second passed, then Kallian snorted and dissolved into giggles. “Idiot. Sodding idot. Hey, are you lot okay?” She waved over the other two men. “Nice timing,” she told Daveth as he accepted a poultice to close the wound on his head.

“Not too bad a duo we make, eh?” He agreed with a crooked smile. 

A couple of cuts were bandaged, and Alistair had a salve for burns, luckily enough, so he and Kallian could heal the skin of their faces. 

Then there were more darkspawn. Of course.

“Don’t step in a trap, you bear,” said Kallian with a cheeky wink. 

Her daggers were in her hands, and the other men drew their weapons too. This time they let the darkspawn come to them, weapons hacking and slashing, Daveth targeting the archers before an arrow could take any of them down. 

Alistair swung his sword, slicing the head off their last foe, the body falling with a solid thud. The head stared up at them with vacant eyes and a jaw still open horridly wide in a cry that was cut off. 

“Well, that’s fucking disgusting,” Kallian commented. 

“Oi, are these the ruins we’re supposed to be at?” Daveth pointed with his bow still in hand. 

“I think so,” said Alistair. “Look around for some sort of trunk or a sealed-”

“This?” Kallian called, already having sprinted up ahead. “It’s broken open…” She tapped the toe of her boot on the bottom of the chest. What were they supposed to do now?

“Vultures? Coming into my wilds to take what isn’t yours? Or have you lost your way in the mist among the darkspawn?”

Startled, Kallian turned her head sharply to the right to find a woman. Leathers layered to form a skirt, feathers along her shoulders, and eerie yellow eyes: a woman of the wilds.  

“I wondered to myself as I followed your progress. Where are they going? Why are they here?”

“Your wilds?” Alistair countered hotly. “There were documents in here that are Grey Warden property. It’s not stealing if it’s already ours!”

“Careful. She’s chasind,” Daveth said. “A witch of the wilds. She’ll turn us all into toads if we’re not careful!”

“A witch? Interesting stories you spread. You fear a swarm of barbarians will swoop down upon you?” The woman merely chuckled, a glint in her strange yellow eyes. 

Alistair glared. “Yes. Swooping is bad.”

Kallian rolled her eyes in unison with the chasind woman. “You there,” she pointed a pale finger at Kallian. “Women do not frighten so easily as little boys. Tell me your name and maybe I shall tell you mine, so we might have a proper conversation.”

A blonde eyebrow arched upwards. “Uh... it’s Kallian.”

The woman smiled. “And you may call me Morrigan. So,” she walked past them up some crumbling steps to look down upon the group, “you are searching for the relics which are here no longer.”

“No longer? You took them!” Alistair crossed his arms. “Some sort of - of - sneaky witch thief!” 

Was that really the best he could come up with? Even Morrigan seemed to agree. “Oh how eloquent. Ask me where they are and maybe I will have the answers you seek.” Morrigan turned her gaze back to Kallian. “Well?”

And they were just supposed to trust this random woman? Stalking them through the wilds? What was her angle? “She’s playing games with us.” She looked Morrigan straight in the eyes. They weren’t going to be tricked here.

Morrigan scoffed. “No need to play the petulant child. ‘Twas my mother who removed the papers from their holding. Should you want them back you need only follow me.”

“I’m telling you, mate,” Daveth said under his breath, “toads, the lot of us.”

Jory pursed his lips. “It’s cold enough out here as it is. I’d rather get these documents and get out of here.”

Without checking if they were following, she started loping gracefully past the ruins, deeper into the misty trees. She used a staff, digging the bottom into the ground as she walked. Kallian suspected the men weren’t wrong about her being a witch. Mages carried staves.

Kallian widened her strides to keep up. “You live out here? Are you chasind?” While there was curiosity, she also wasn’t about to let them be lured deep into the wilds only for their guide to disappear - that sounded like a witchy thing to do. 

Morrigan glanced at her as if surprised to be addressed again. “Am I, or am I not? The wilds are my home. What difference does it make?”

“Uh… I guess it doesn’t...really…”

“Call me what you will. The name matters not to me.” She pointed. “And here we are.”

It was just a simple hut with a thatched roof and smoke from a fire curling out of a chimney. A grey haired woman was waiting outside, dressed in a simple linen dress with lines creasing her face.

“Mother!” Morrigan gestured behind her. “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who-”

“I have eyes, girl,” Morrigan’s mother croaked with a gravelled voice. “I have been expecting you. You come for the treaties that I have been protecting for all this-”

“You! Oh... protected them,” Alistair immediately reeled back from the accusations he was about to throw. 

“I have. We face dangerous times ahead of us. This Blight is a bigger threat than even your wardens realize.”

Kallian furrowed her brows. “How do you know that?”

“Me?” She laughed manically. “How does one know anything?” She chuckled again. “Maybe I know nothing at all and simply like collecting moldy old parchment. What does your elven mind believe, hm?”

Maybe coming here was a bad idea. This woman gave her the creeps. “Elven? What’s that got to…? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be believing here. We just came for the treaties.”

That earned another bout of creepy laughter. “Ah, there is wisdom in your words. Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide, either way one’s a fool!”

Morrigan just sighed and rolled her eyes. “The treaties, mother. They did not come all this way to listen to you go on and on.” 

To Kallian’s intense discomfort, Morrigan’s mother pressed the papers into her hands but held them tight, looking directly into Kallian’s big brown eyes. She didn’t speak in that time, but searched form something, and nodded slowly as she pulled away as if she’d found what she was looking for. 

“Much uncertainty, but a spark of something. It seems I also believe.” She laughed again and Kallian wished she would stop. “Why, I guess I do!”

She was frozen to the spot. It was as if the woman had seen through her. A shiver crawled up her spine, leaving Kallian feeling hollow and bare. “Let’s go.” She clenched her jaw. Kallian needed to be away from that piercing gaze. It was worse than Morrigan’s cat-like eyes. 

“Go on girl, lead your guests out of the wilds. It wouldn’t do to have our wardens lost in the swamp for days on end, would it?” She cackled again, as if this whole thing was some joke that no one else was in on. 

“Yes, mother,” Morrigan sighed. 

This time Kallian didn’t keep up with Morrigan’s side. She wanted to be away from the wilds, away from the cryptic messages and strange looks. Crazy old woman or not, she seemed dangerous and made Kallian’s hair sand on end.

Getting out didn’t take as long as walking in had. The darkspawn had been cleared from their path, and Morrigan led them through many shortcuts. They even avoided the ghastly swinging dead bodies.

Jory, ever chivalrous, turned to thank Morrigan when they were in view of the gates to Ostagar, but she had simply vanished, not a living thing in sight but a bird flying over a tree. 

Duncan was waiting by a large fire. The sun was setting, casting a glow over the encampment, more fires flaring to life as the sky turned dark. He had an iron pot set aside with steam rising up from it, kept warm over some orange embers. 

Kallian held out the treaties for him. “We’ve got the blood too. Now can you tell us what this sodding joining is?”

Alistair’s eyes widened at her as she spoke to their commander. Not everyone was so eager to fall over themselves with ‘yes sirs’ and whatever else people were supposed to say in armies. It wasn’t like Duncan cared - well, unless it was towards the king. 

“In good time. Eat first and then we will proceed. I need to go speak to one of the enchanters and we can prepare the ritual.” Duncan took the three vials and strode towards the magi tents. 

There was a hushed anticipation over the three recruits. The soup was warm, and nicely seasoned with herbs - surprisingly good for what Kallian expected would be rationed army fare. Finally they would find out what this ritual was - for better or for worse. Kallian had an inkling it was the latter. Sounded like there was blood magic of some kind. It didn’t take a genius - they literally collected blood and now Duncan was taking it to a mage. 

“It is ready.” Duncan was back, his face an unreadable mask. Kallian opened her mouth to ask again about this ritual nonsense. He held a hand up. “The joining is the final test. I will not lie to you. It is dangerous, and fate may decide your sacrifice come now rather than later.”

“Sacrifice? It could kill us?” said Kallian.

“Just as likely as darkspawn may strike you down. It is a price we must pay,” Duncan replied.

Alistair nodded solemnly, only adding to Kallian’s unease, and they followed him up a large set of stone stairs to an isolated platform in what used to be a temple.

Jory muttered nervously behind them. “I don’t like the sound of this. They could at least warn us. I mean, had I known-”

“Had you known you wouldn’t have joined? That’s probably why they don’t tell you,” Daveth sneered at the cowardly man. “If this is a Blight don’t you think anything is worth the risk?”

It was the first time she had heard Daveth really take this seriously. And she found herself more impressed with the man, beyond their overlapping history in Denerim.

Apparently Jory didn’t quite share the same sentiment. “I’ve a wife, heavy with child!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have been so eager to leave in the first place,” Kallian snapped. He hadn’t even been conscripted. “Shouldn’t leave a fucking baby behind when you could die,” she muttered. She was certain that was about to be a family lacking a parent.

A silver chalice sat upon the stone table and Duncan held it up in both hands, staring inside for a half second before he lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of each of the three recruits. “Since the first Blight, Grey Wardens have fought the darkspawn. We take their essence into ourselves, strengthening us and giving us immunity to their taint. That is how we can sense them, and fight them, why the wardens are singularly equipped to deal with the Blights.”

“You want us to drink their blood? That goes against nature,” Jory balked. 

“It is what has always been done, since the first wardens,” said Duncan. “Alistair, would you speak the words.”

Kallian stared at the cup as it was passed to Alistair’s hands, he too wouldn’t meet her eyes, or the others. 

“We only say a few words, at every joining, but they are spoken at every one.” He cleared his throat. “Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice shall not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you.”

“Step forward Daveth,” said Duncan.

It was the most serious that Kallian had ever seen her fellow pickpocketer. She felt it too. He flashed an easy smile at Kallian. “Cheers.” Then he drank. 

Kallian didn’t know what to expect, but when his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to his knees, she shouted. “Help him!” Alistair and Duncan did nothing. Daveth writhed on the ground, hands clawing at his throat as he choked. “Do something!” She yelled again and got on her knees next to the man when no one else moved. 

He stilled. His chest didn’t rise and fall with breath, the beat of his heart could no longer be felt in his neck. Daveth was dead.

“I am sorry.” Duncan sounded sincere, but he was the one who put them all up to this. He knew they could die!

Her limbs were wooden when she stood. Her eyes were trained on Daveth’s body. Thirty seconds ago he had smiled at her in his easygoing manner. 

“Jory, step forward,” Duncan was now in front of the warrior. 

Instead he stepped back, long strides until his back was at the wall. “This isn’t right! You’ve tricked us. I have a wife, a child on the way. You can’t make me.”

“You must,” Duncan urged.

Kallian eyes widened as Duncan’s hand went to his belt, palm on a dagger. “Just do it!” Duncan was going to fucking kill him! 

“I’ll have no part in this!” Jory was reaching for his own sword but Duncan was faster. A swift jab up into the ribcage, then a twist and Jory joined Daveth on the ground. 

Kallian’s jaw dropped and she lifted her eyes to Alistair’s as if to ask why? It was just her left. A bloody death if she said no, an agonizing end just for drinking from the cursed chalice. 

Too soon, it was her name being called.

“Step forward, Kallian.”

She was never a girl to be accused of being afraid. Kallian scaled buildings, scoffed at blood, fought off thugs, killed more guards than she could count while wearing a fucking wedding dress! 

Still, her hand trembled as she reached for the cup. Not being afraid didn’t mean she wanted to die. She seized the chalice, grip tightening to stop the shaking of her hand. There was still blood crusted under her fingernails and red splotches up her arm. Not even a chance to have a proper bath. An idle thought to have before her possible death.

“Kallian,” Duncan warned, as she still hadn’t drunk.

Her heart galloped and she tipped the silver cup back, imbibing the cursed liquid within.

It burned. Her stomach rejected it, rolling over but her throat seized up and she clawed at it. She was choking! Dying! Her knees hit the ground but it was a dull pain compared to the searing white hot in her chest, her veins, splitting her head open. White light then darkness. This was Kallian’s end.

* * *

 

“...soon. Then we’ll have to…” 

There were deep voices. Men speaking, but she didn’t catch it all. Ringing in her ears and feeling like her head was split open then pressed back together again.

Groaning, she lifted a heavy arm to press a palm to her temple. “Maker…” 

Blinking her eyes open, the faces of Duncan and Alistair swam into view.

“Welcome to the Grey Wardens,” Duncan said with much warmth.

Alistair braced an arm against Kallian’s back, helping her sit up from the cold stone ground. “Two recruits down. We only lost one at my joining…” He spoke to himself.

“How are you feeling?” Duncan asked.

Decidedly not dead at the very least. “Like shit. That was… “ She shook her head. So much death in such a short time. “Why did you have to kill Jory? Is it really so bad to turn away? He had family.” She also did, but couldn’t return to them only to have a short life in the dungeons before execution. This was Kallian’s only way out.  

“It is a sacrifice all of us must make. The Joining is a secret to all but the wardens. We can’t let the knowledge of the ritual spread,” Duncan explained. “We can talk more later but for now rest, I have to meet with the king again.”

It seemed even more a reason to stick to recruits like her, like Daveth, who were heading to an untimely end anyway. Not people who had so much to lose. 

She glanced to her side and found only a bloodstain marring the stone floor. Already cleaned up the bodies - as if they were never even there. 

“How long was I out for?” She winced, pressing a palm to her knee as she stood up. 

“Not so long. Easy,” said Alistair as she staggered. 

A hand went to her elbow but she shrugged it off. “Just like a bad hangover. I’m good.” Kallian gave him a wry smile.

It brought a smile to Alistair’s lips as well. “In that case, how about we go meet some of the senior wardens. I imagine they’ll want to welcome our newest member.”

Kallian fell into step with the man, though her stride was much quicker to keep up with his longer legs. “More humans who think I can’t be a fighter? Can’t fuckin’ wait.” To prove them wrong.

“Er... again, sorry about that.” Alistair was falling back to his nervous habit, rubbing the back of his neck. “You survived the Joining though. That will make you a warden in everyone’s eyes. I’m sure they’ll give you all the ribbing they gave me, but no one will question whether you belong. You’re one of us.”

One of us. It filled Kallian with more a sense of belonging than living in the alienage sometimes had. The aching in her head dimmed, and she felt a warmth bubble up in her stomach. She was a warden - for real.

The view from up on the hill didn’t quite capture all the bodies and activity that was going on in the field where the army camps were. Even at night, much of the action hadn’t settled down. There was the ring of steel in the air from sparring, messengers - all elven - scurried unnoticed among the soldiers, and her and Alistair both had to practically jump out of the way as two burly men rushed a stretcher up towards the ruins where the sick and wounded were tended to. 

Blue and grey banners marked the wardens’ tents - and they were small in number. The few not sleeping or out on the field scouting were gathered around a fire mostly turned to embers. 

“Chantry boy!” A brute of a man with bright orange hair stood from his seat on a log. “Hoped you’d come ‘round. How many this time?” His gaze fell to Kallian. “Just the one eh? Your name, lassie?” 

“Kallian.” She was still smirking over ‘Chantry Boy’ - definitely using that one.

Alistair palmed his face but couldn’t hide the blush. “This one’s Henric. Over there you’ve got Pevinski,” he pointed to a man with an eye patch, “that small fellow is Ricardin and Garth’s the  _ pleasant _ one.” 

When Garth’s name was mentioned he grunted, steely gaze on Kallian as he took a long gulp from a dark bottle.

“Been a while since we had an elf. Thief... or murderer?” Ricardin’s blue eyes twinkled with knowledge. 

“Delwyn would give you shit for that one, Ricky,” the man called Pevinski finally spoke - sounding much younger in voice than in his war torn looks.

“Ah yeah, Delwyn. You would’ve liked him.” Ricardin told Kallian. “Or not. Both elves though, woulda been something.” He shrugged. “So which is it?”

“So all elves are thieves or murderers?” Kallian crossed her arms, hackles rising up as she readied to defend herself.

Henric roared in laughter. “She  _ woulda _ liked Delwyn!”

Ricardin snickered with a shit eating grin. “Nah, not all elves. Just the sorry sods who get conscripted.” He raised his own bottle in a mockery of a toast. “Here, here!” The others joined. That even earned a twitch of Garth’s lips.

“Come on then, have a drink, lassie. Unless the joining juice already hit you too hard. This stuff’s strong enough as it is,” Henric patted the spot on the log beside him.

“We are headed to battle tomorrow,” Alistair reminded her.

“All the better to have a drink, yeah?” Kallian wasn’t going to sit this one out. She took the offered bottle from Henric’s beefy hand. “You should see the bootlegs we have in the alienage.” The acrid taste of alcohol hit the back of her throat as soon as she took a sip. It burned like fire the whole way down with no taste other than sharp and fuck. “Andraste’s tits! What in the void?”

“Conscription ale,” said Henric.

“Greywhiskey,” Pevinski supplied, raising his own bottle.

“You should start your own. It’s tradition. Hang on, little one.” Kallian’s brow furrowed at the nickname as Henric walked over to a bundle of supplies tossed on a cart. “There. Fill it with whatever brews you find, and get a taste that’s all your own. Used to be Benji’s but he’s no use of it now.”

Another name mentioned of a fallen warden. She wondered if it was recent, or before Ostagar. She rather hoped it was from before the supposed ‘easy’ battles they were going to have here. Kallian turned the bottle over in her hands. “You just... mix whatever you find?” No wonder it tasted like fire on the tongue. Her nose wrinkled. “And I’m not little. I’m normal elf height.”

Henric shrugged one shoulder. “Alright little one. And these don’t take up space on the road,” he explained, “at least not compared to piles of bottles collectin’ everywhere you go.”

“Not your height.” Kallian was surprised to hear Garth speak after all the teasing and raucous laughter. “Are we getting older or is Duncan taking them in younger ‘n younger.” Shaggy brown hair covered his face more as Garth shook his head. “How old are ya, anyway?”

She clenched her jaw, answering tightly. “Eighteen.”

“Shit.” Garth’s curse was joined by a chorus of low whistles. 

“I don’t think my age changes whether I can stab some darkspawn to death.” Kallian’s jaw set to a hard line.

“Eh, no need to pout,” said Ricardin. His eyes were soft, almost with sympathy. Before Kallian could get further than open her mouth with a retort he put a palm up to stop her next outburst as he chuckled. “Hit the sack tonight. Come show us what you’re made of in the morning.”

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair sighed. It was good-natured, though. “Don’t fall for it, Kallian. They won’t go easy on you just because you’re new.”

She scoffed loudly. “I fucking hope not.” She didn’t need pity or coddling. And if she could hold her own - she wondered if she would be able to - then she’d feel better knowing the men had actually given their all too.

It turned out there was at least one perk to being the only woman in an order of men: Kallian got to keep her tent to herself. Most others were sharing in order to spread the availability of supplies. She got to put up her own tent - competent enough to do it on her own now - and enjoy the privacy of her own space even if it was just some canvas walls and a few layers of blankets.

In the privacy of her own tent, Kallian was also left with her own thoughts to company her. As physically tired as she was, there was just so much she was still left to process. After just beginning to like Daveth, he was wiped away in a single instant. And Jory died so fucking needlessly - the coward! He shouldn’t have come if he was just going to worry about everything. Somehow Kallian had survived though. The taint... it was inside her now. How soon until she was doing that eerie thing that both Duncan and Alistair had done, where they just  _ knew _ the darkspawn were coming? Unsettling to think she was somehow connected to those hideous creatures now, but she was also connected to the Wardens. She didn’t just get conscripted, Kallian was fucking meant to be one. That’s what surviving the Joining really meant, wasn’t it? She turned over to her side, a small smile on her lips as she wiggled again, trying to find a position that would let her sleep. She was a Warden in every way. No one could say she didn’t belong when she took in darkspawn taint and came out the other side. 

Kallian only hoped she could say the same thing for an upcoming battle - coming out the other side. Street fighting and shit were almost second nature to her now, but she couldn’t even imagine swarms of darkspawn racing towards them, surrounded by the sound of clashing metal. Maybe it would be good to get some sparring going with the experienced fighters. 

Even with her eyes pressed tightly shut, anxiety twisted its spindly fingers around Kallian’s chest and flooded her mind with endless scenarios that ended with a blade through her stomach and dark red liquid dripping down her body like flowing wine. Her trick was always to go unnoticed, blend in and be quick. Was that even possible among an army?

“Sun’s up, let’s get the little elf!”

The haze of dawn was filtering through her tent and humans were speaking far too loud and well within her earshot. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. 

“I told you not to call her an elf,” came a hissed response.

“She is one. Should I call her dwarf?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favourite chapters to write and even moreso with the enthusiastic encouragement from [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) my beta <3
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Tower of Ishal

The ‘whether to call her an elf’ matter was swiftly resolved at breakfast when Kallian set her bowl of porridge on the table and glowered. Her only spoken word was _don’t_. She ate in silence and glared at anyone trying to strike up a conversation. Too early, too little sleep and no patience for all the fucking shems this morning.

With food in her belly and the sun now properly up in the sky, Kallian was still sullen. When was the last time she’d gotten to sleep in? She wished she’d appreciated it more. She trudged behind Alistair, stopping when he did, and then keeping her eyes on his boots when he began walking once more.

“Try this one,” Alistair said for the fourth time.

They were looking for a helmet that would fit her comfortably. Kallian didn’t have one because her mother didn’t, and apparently it was too short notice to just have one made. Humans evidently had bigger heads. At least all the enormous men did.

“’Kay.” Kallian pulled the leather over her head. For once it didn’t hang over her eyes, and it was even comfortably snug. She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “It actually fits.”

Small mercy that they didn’t have to pay. The reason much of their morning had been eaten up was because they had to wander among the encampment looking through the scrap armour and weaponry. Scrap, because they were leftovers scavenged from the dead. Her helmet was likely a woman’s - apparently some human armies didn’t totally discount half the population, though they were few and far between.

“I need to see if I can track down some more bandages,” Alistair said once they were back among the Grey Wardens. “Wish me luck.”

The Chantry sisters providing medical aid were stingy with their supplies, but it wasn’t through fault of their own, there simply wasn’t enough to go around sometimes.

Henric grinned and waved her over. “There ye are, lassie.” He thumped the top of her head with a palm when she got closer. “Look ready for fightin’ but are ye fit for fightin’?”

A wooden sword was tossed in her direction and Kallian instinctively caught it, just in time to swing it up and barely block a jab from Henric’s matching wooden weapon. She yelped and jumped backwards as he swung again.

“Little one’s light on her feet,” Henric laughed as he easily swung his sword at her again, forcing Kallian to pivot away.

“I fight with - Maker!” She rolled again as the warrior swung hard. “- better with two weapons!” She huffed as she jabbed at him, his strength easily knocking her weapon away.

“And I with a shield. Even ground.” And he lunged.

Henric was bigger but that meant Kallian just had to move faster, dodge with her weight kept on the balls of her feet and she whacked him a couple of times on the shin and upper arm. She was under no illusion that her hits would leave a man of that size with bruising, but it helped her ego some to know she at least could land hits.

Apparently this was just a warm up, because with a mighty yell, Henric spurred into a flurry of action. Their feet moved constantly in a dance - sidestepping each other backwards, forwards, a twist away from a sword swung in a wide arc. For every hit Kallian managed to get, Henric’s hit harder and soon she was sweating. Blocking shook her arms, but she just urged her body to move faster, avoiding the attacks altogether rather than trying to catch the weight behind his strikes.

Several other wardens had gathered to watch by this time, and Kallian’s jaw set hard in determination. Finally a chance to show off without fear.

Kallian let out a triumphant laugh as she flitted away and jabbed Henric in the ribs. Then Henric stuck out a foot as she twisted once more and she was falling backwards. “Oof!” She cried, landing on her ass and a sword tip held at her neck. She glared right up at the man, who was still grinning, and pushed the practice weapon away. “Cheap shot.” Her cheeks were burning and it had nothing to do with the sweat she’d worked up.

Henric offered a hand to help her up and Kallian smiled ever so sweetly and took it. Only to kick a boot at one of his legs to throw him off balance and yank on his arm until he too ended up down on the dirt.

The few gathered wardens broke into laughter and Ricardin even shouted, “You show him, newbie!”

Henric picked himself up, brushing dust off his knees. “You were supposed to be dead,” he teased. “Nice kick.”

Kallian held her chin up high. Maybe she hadn’t won the fight but she’d held her own, and knocked Henric down a peg - literally. “Thanks. Water break and then another round?” Her blood was pumping, and she was all limbered up. The haze that clouded her brain in mornings finally lifted and she was in fighting spirit. And the practice was good. An experienced warrior was a far cry from street thugs.

They spent another few hours sparring. Sometimes Henric used a shield and Kallian wielded two of the short swords, other rounds they went back to sword on sword. They taunted each other, calling names and laughing easily. She found herself growing quite warm towards the burly man from Starkhaven - a fact she’d learned during one of their many water breaks.

“Regretting your life choices yet?” Alistair called. He sat down next to Kallian on the makeshift bench - it was just a plank of wood across some stumps. “I let them keep going at me until the sun went down. I was one giant bruise. Couldn’t sit down without a healthy layer of pillows.”

“Oh your poor tender ass,” Kallian said.

Alistair put on a pitiful expression. “Thank you so much for your concern. It is all better now.”

“Oh can I see?” Kallian asked with false enthusiasm. “Just to make sure.”

“You-ah,” Alistair’s face started turning red and he sputtered.

Kallian cackled. “I don’t wanna see your ass, idiot.”

“But chantry boy surely has nice round, youthful buttocks,” Henric said with glee in his eyes.

“Stop talking about my buttocks!” Alistair cried, as his blush deepened.

Kallian was laughing even harder. “You brought it up.”

“Make me regret every time I speak, why don’t you?” Alistair muttered, shaking his head at Henric. “Anyway, I got you these.” Alistair undid the flap of the large pouch hanging off the side of his belt and held out a stretch of bandage and some green herbs.

“You managed to get elfroot?” Kallian said, her eyes going wide.

“A supply cart just made it down to Ostagar. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, for once.”

She opened her small belt pouch to put away the few healing supplies and found a pale flower, the petals slightly withered. “Oh, shit.” She pulled it out and stuffed the bandages away. “I’ll be back.”

The flower. The mabari! She had completely forgotten. So much shit had happened after finding the flower - creepy Morrigan and her creepier mother, then the fucking Joining. Kallian raced back up to the ruins, mentally kicking herself. Wouldn’t it be great to find out a Mabari had died thanks to her too.

The kennel master was feeding the dogs their dinner when she got there and she held up the flower. “This what you need?”

His eyebrows shot up. He had probably given up hope that she would find the flower for him. “It might be just in time.”

While he rushed away to make the medicine, Kallian squatted down in front of the sick dog. He whined at her, sadness in the dog’s drooping eyes. “Sorry, love.” She murmured, and hesitantly reached out to rub his forehead. The mabari let out a huff of air, as if sighing but didn’t shy from her touch. It did seem like there was some degree of understanding in those dark eyes. “That’s a good boy.” She gently scratched under his chin. Her gut twisted. She really hoped it wasn’t too late. The dog was so pitiful compared to the image of proud Fereldan mabari, with teeth bared and muscles flexing.

The kennel master returned and Kallian stepped out of the way so he could open the gate. He beckoned the dog to drink. To Kallian’s surprise, the dog obeyed the command. Smart - like it knew the draught would help.

“He just might make it after all, thanks to you.” The man smiled. “How about you come back again tomorrow. He’s already taken a liking to you. We could try imprinting him.”

“To me? I’m not-” She stopped herself from talking her way out of having a fucking mabari. “You think it would work?”

“Mabari can be picky. If he’s being gentle with you now, you’ve a good a shot as any.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Kallian grinned. A Mabari! Her own!

She couldn’t pull the grin off her face as she walked with a bounce in her step back to the warden camp. Alistair was already coming towards her and she was bursting to share the news with someone.

“Alistair! You’ll never guess. My life is amazing right now, listen-”

“There you are. It’ll have to wait. Duncan has been looking for you.”

“Duncan? What’s he want me for?” Her eyebrows drew together.

“He just said to meet him by the war table. You know where it is? Passed it on the way to the temple for the Joining.” Alistair fell into step with Kallian, slowing his own pace so she wasn’t hurrying to keep up. “Probably find out where you’ll be assigned to in the battle. He’s been tied up in strategy talks most of the day.”

Kallian waved goodbye to him as they parted paths. The King and his general, Loghain, were still gathered there and arguing. She waited off to the side but Duncan nodded for her to come over.

She stood off at one corner, hoping not to draw attention to herself - after all, what the fuck was she doing at a strategy meeting?

“Yes Loghain, you’ll come in to flank but we need someone to light the beacon to signal it,” Cailan said.

“I’ll have my men posted at the Tower of Ishal.”

“No, this is a key part of the plan, we need wardens there. That’s where you come in,” the king addressed Kallian. “Send Alistair along too.”

“No fighting?” And she had to be babysat too? “I can handle the tower on my own then. Let Alistair join the other wardens.”

Duncan responded, “If Grey Wardens are what you require then we are at your aid.” He gave a pointed look in Kallian’s direction as he spoke.

She rolled her eyes. So much for not bowing to any king.

“Excellent. And I shall join in the charge side by side with the Grey Wardens.” King Cailan nodded.

“You place too much trust in them,” said Loghain. “To risk yourself in such a way, Cailan.”

“If it is such a risk perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to arrive before we conquer this horde once and for all.”

Loghain surprised Kallian in that his face was capable of turning into an even more severe scowl. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then we have a plan. Good. Make haste, Duncan, for we meet the darkspawn in battle tonight.”

She and Duncan met up with Alistair after. Kallian still couldn’t believe after all her fretting, her preparation, that she wouldn’t even be in the fight.

Alistair evidently couldn’t believe it either. “Look, if King Cailan asks me to put on a dress and dance the remigold, that’s where I draw the line.”

“Oh _that’s_ where you draw the line. Shame. Would make a great distraction.” The corners of Kallian’s lips twitched upwards.

Alistair’s mood lightened and he smirked back at her. “Yes, and then while they were all lost in awe you’d slaughter the lot of them.”

“If you’re quite done,” said Duncan. “You should have about an hour to get to the top, and from there you’ll be able to survey the battle below. We’ll signal you when the time is right.”

“Should we rejoin the battle after?” Kallian asked. It seemed pointless to sit on their asses at the top of the tower once the job was done.

Duncan didn’t give a yes or no. He just said, “If we need you, we’ll send word. Hopefully the weather will hold out.”

“Touch wood,” she warned, only to realize the only wood in reach was the burning logs in the fire.

Thunder boomed ominously above them and a streak of lightning shot across the sky, briefly illuminating the flags beginning to churn in the wind. The rumbling grew louder, threatening in its volume.

She snorted. “Told you. Bad omen, that is,” said Kallian. “Red sky this morning? That always means it’s gonna be a big storm.”

“Better get moving,” said Alistair, though he stood still a moment longer, staring at the sky.

Then it poured.

“Fucking, shit!” Kallian yelled, as they both began running across the ground, streaking towards the bridge.

“Across there!” Alistair yelled over the claps of thunder and the clash of battle.

Torches, thousands of torches flickered out across the wilds. _That_ was the horde?

That was all Kallian had time to think when a huge boulder struck the side of the bridge, landing on two men and killing them instantly, sending the rest of them bowling over. Her head smacked the stone, leaving her dazed for a moment. Alistair’s hand was on her elbow shouting something and she squinted in confusion.

“-go! Now!”

The ringing in Kallian’s ears faded and she let Alistair pull her upwards, sprinting to the end of the bridge as another boulder was launched into the air.

“Did you see the army? The darkspawn? Maker!” Kallian shouted.

“All the more reason to get to the top of the tower!”

The rain fell in heavy sheets. Dry dirt was becoming that famous thick Fereldan mud, coating their boots and splashing up their legs as they struggled to run to the tower. Kallian skidded as they ran down a hill, and Alistair threw a hand out to steady her. She only gave a nod in thanks, squinting just to see through the rain.

At the base of the tower two men scrambled out through the gates: one carrying a staff, and the other firing off a crossbow bolt behind him as they ran.

“The tower’s been taken!” Warned the mage.

“Taken how?” Alistair frowned, wiping water off his face.

“The darkspawn, they came up through the lower levels. We were overwhelmed!”

“Then it’s a good thing the king sent Grey Wardens to the tower,” Kallian said, their new purpose revealed. “Come with us. We need to make it to the top.”

If she could fight her way out of a guarded castle with Soris, then Kallian surely could fight her way into a darkspawn filled tower with Alistair.

As it turned out, that was very much easier said than done. Every corner they turned there were always more darkspawn. The rain turned out to be a blessing rather than a curse; Kallian was pretty sure the only reason they walked away minimally singed from a giant fireball was because they were all soaked to the bone. Both Kallian and the mage were bleeding from several wounds after she had fallen back to help the man out with the two darkspawn that chased him down.

And they had only cleared two floors so far.

“My bruises have bruises,” Alistair groaned. “Ah! Gentle!”

She grit her teeth. “I am.” She tightly wrapped the bandage around Alistair’s arm where the biggest gash was. The white cloth stained dark red as soon as it was pressed to the wound but the pressure helped.

“You think I should use some elfroot on this?” Alistair said as he twisted his arm back and forth with a grimace.

Kallian shook her head. “Better to save it.” A very important lesson that the alienage had taught her early on: how to be frugal. “It’ll hurt, but you can still hold your shield up, right?”

“Pretty sure holding my shield up is what landed me with this,” he said wryly.

“Watch your flank more,” Kallian said as she helped him adjust his armour back in position. Maces were brutal against armour, she’d just learned. “Stand in one position too long and you leave yourself open.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows. “We can’t all move as fast as you,” he joked. “Hard to watch your back when you’re all over the place.”

“How about I watch your back then. And your sides, and pretty much anywhere that isn’t directly in front of you,” she doled out teasing with ease.

“Oh yes, let’s tease the warrior with a sword that’s almost the size of _you_ ,” Alistair returned the jest in kind and Kallian snickered. The teasing was a brief respite and she welcomed it.

Even taking only a few moments to roughly patch themselves up, Kallian knew they were losing ground. An hour had seemed like such a long time when they weren’t fighting their way through every room. Now, she wasn’t sure if they were going to make it in time for the signal.

“Okay, let’s keep going,” Kallian walked wearily ahead.

Alistair shoved the heavy door open at the top of the stairs, yelling as he charged into the next group of darkspawn.

Normally darting from enemy to enemy, taking down unaware darkspawn with easy hits, now Kallian stuck by Alistair’s side. The darkspawn rushed at the large warrior, and Kallian flanked them. Despite her decreased movement, they were mowing down enemies faster than ever.

“Back!” Alistair yelled.

It gave Kallian a split second to prance backwards as Alistair swung his shield in a wide arc, exactly where she had been standing, and exactly where a darkspawn sporting two daggers was now sprawled on the ground.

Thanks,” Kallian panted, and then they were back in the flurry of battle.

Bolts of magic disabled and confused the archers, giving Kallian and the two warriors cover until they could get close enough to take them out.

They could actually fucking do this!

The guard had rushed on ahead, his mace did heavy damage, crushing in helmets like they were mere copper pots. Until he skidded to a stop.

“Might take more than two wardens for this,” said the warrior.

The room ahead was laden with crude barricade and spikes, behind which darkspawn waited with crossbows. Hurlocks were growling, communicating with guttural tones. The hall was wide open too. Anywhere that could have been a hiding place had been destroyed, pulled apart, and converted into barricades for the darkspawns’ own use.

Growls weren’t the only sounds filling the open chamber. A cacophony of howls and barks intertwined with the noise. Half a dozen Mabari were kept in kennels, sheltered from the elements outside.

“That lever!” Alistair was reading her mind.

“On it,” Kallian said, already mapping out the quickest and least dangerous path. Past a barricade, to the left of a tall column - maybe enough to give her a split second of cover.

“Kallian!” Alistair yelled as she sprinted.

Her heart raced, and her dagger hilts were slick in her hands. Flames sprung up to her right, making darkspawn howl. She glanced back to see the mage with fire billowing out in a cone from his hands.

Something spiked and heavy crashed into her back and she yelped, sprawling forward on her stomach. Kallian groaned, feeling the warmth of blood seep across her back and the keen sharp pain of torn flesh. She scooted forward on her elbows, toes pushing across the ground and she cried out in pain as she stretched an arm out and pulled the lever to raise the cage doors.

The hounds sprung free, and immediately leaped into action - literally jumping onto and tackling their foes to the ground. Their maws quickly turned red as they bit into the necks of the darkspawn. It was a wonder all the Mabari didn’t end up tainted with how much blood got into their mouths.

Moving hurt more than she’d care to admit and she only hoped with the dogs’ help, the three men wouldn’t need hers.

“Do you know healing magic?” Alistair was calling out to the mage and he came and knelt at Kallian’s side.

“I’m afraid... well, I’m not particularly talented in that field. Mostly primal.”

“Good thing I saved that elfroot, yeah?” Kallian joked weakly. “Good dog,” she cooed as one of the Mabari came trotting over and it barked, tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Alistair quickly fashioned a poultice, the crushed herbs seeped into a bandage. “Sorry, I, er, have to unbuckle your - well, your armour has to come off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” Groaning as she sat up, she sluggishly pulled at the buckles until she could peel off the chest piece.

Gingerly, Alistair rolled up the back of her shirt, and he wrapped the poultice over her wound. Pain became numbness, and flesh sealed together until no more blood seeped from the gash. She pulled her shirt back down and tightened her cuirass over her chest once more.

“Great, now there’s a fucking hole in it.” She arched her arm back, feeling where the leather was punctured.

“Yeah, the leather has a hole in it. That’s what you’re worried about, not the hole in your back.” Alistair raised his eyebrows.

Kallian stood, rolling her shoulders. “You’d be pissed too if you could never get armour that fit. No one ever makes armour for elves - most won’t take us for customers.”

They peered into doorways as they walked, each of them empty. Whatever might have been hiding in there had come rushing out in the noise of battle.

“Talk to Duncan after all this is done. He was getting proper warden armour made for all of us, now that Grey Wardens are officially stationed in Ferelden again.”

Kallian smiled. “The blue and silver and griffons and all that?”

“Definitely griffons. Can’t get enough of them.”

Another heavy wooden door marked the passage to the next floor. “Reckon we’ll make it in time?” Kallian said aloud what they’d both been thinking since they began.

“We have to try,” said Alistair.

The stairs coiled upwards in a wide spiral. Almost there. They had done it. They reached the top.

“We have to light the beacon before it’s too-”

They skidded to a halt in the wide dome-shaped room of the top floor.

A huge horned beast turned, mashing bloody remains between its fangs and beady eyes landed on them. It turned, fists pounding the floor enough to make it tremble. It roared, spittle flying from it’s mouth and it charged, faster than Kallian imagined a thing of that size could move.

“Ogre!” cried Alistair.

The group scattered and the ogre skidded into the wall, giving the rest of them just enough time to regroup and act.

“What the fuck? What the _fuck_?” Kallian shouted, back still flat against the wall.

The mage waved his staff, and a large swirling glowing mark appeared on the floor, while the guard pulled his crossbow from his back and just started shooting bolts wildly.

The ogre shook its head, no longer dazed, and turned with raised fists. As soon as a heavy foot landed on the glowing glyph, it stopped, frozen in that position, paralyzed before it could strike.

“Yes!” Kallian shouted.

Alistair jogged forward, hacking and slashing at thick legs and Kallian followed suit. Daringly, she ran under its body striking upwards into the surprisingly tough hide of the ogre’s belly. Kallian ran through its legs, slicing it's ankles as she skittered around it.

The ogre shuddered, growling loudly as its limbs came back under its control once more. And with those limbs it swung wildly, catching the mage with a wicked backhand to send him flying into a pile of rubble. While she watched it's meaty fists, Kallian missed the windup and was kicked backwards by an equally huge foot. She hit the wall with a grunt as the air rushed from her lungs. On hands and knees, she gasped for breath, chest aching as she picked up her daggers from the floor.

Again the ogre thrashed out his limbs, charging wildly and she had to throw herself bodily to the right just to avoid being speared by giant horns.

It put her closer to the mage, and she was relieved to find him still breathing. A glance over her shoulder saw the pair of warriors luring the ogre towards them, never stopping their assault of attacks.

“Come on, come on,” she chanted, shaking the mage’s shoulders and lightly slapping his cheek. She had never even learned his damn name!

His eyes rolled beneath the lids and finally opened. “Maker- what?” He grabbed his head. The ogre roared once more and he started, eyes going wide and hands going to his staff. He pushed himself up, using the staff for support, and determination set in his eyes.

A chunk of stone debris slammed into Alistair and the other warrior and then the ogre’s attention switched. It was charging again.

The mage raised his arms, sweat beading at his forehead as he cast that same pattern of glowing magic over the floor and stopped the ogre in its tracks. Gritting his teeth, he yelled as he poured a stream of fire from his hands.

The warriors rallied, running at the ogre and slamming mace and sword alike into its legs and side. Kallian too, cutting ribbons through its greyed skin. It bled from wounds all over its legs, belly, even up on its shoulders and chest where some crossbow bolts had lodged deeply. All while conjured fire blazed over the creature.

They were going to win!

Just as quickly as the ogre was halted, it sprung to life in an instant. With surprising dexterity it snatched the mage in a fist. Kallian watched, frozen in horror as it raised a hand and then _clenched_. Blood poured from the man’s mouth but didn’t muffle the horrible screech that came first. The creature’s fingers opened and the mage fell like a ragdoll, crushed, boneless, dead.

It swept arms wide and Kallian shouted, “Alistair!” She pulled his arm, yanking him to the left as the beast raged on.

A pained yelp echoed as the guard was picked up and slammed into the ground - dead in an instant. His body joined the mage’s.

“No need to panic. Just two of us against an entire ogre. Could do this in our sleep,” Alistair babbled.

“Alistair. What do we do?” Kallian asked. Any trace of humour was gone from her voice.

Instead of an answer, it was his hand on her upper arm pulling her in another direction, narrowly avoiding a chunk of stone barreling into them. The pair were barely dodging out of the way of attacks in time, both pulling each other along just enough to stop themselves from getting more injured but they couldn’t gain the upper hand. The ogre just chased them down, too big to outrun, too powerful to take down.

“What do we _do_?” Kallian asked again, more urgently.

They skidded to a stop next to another wall, and threw themselves to the floor when a fist swung wide, reaching for them. If either of them ended up with those fingers wrapped around their bodies - they were both dead. One crushed, and the other certain to follow.

They _needed_ two people! The ogre was relentlessly pursuing them, it needed _bait_.

“Don’t follow!” Kallian shouted to Alistair as she bolted to her right. If it kept following Alistair, she could flank it, keep hitting the ogre from behind, wound it as much as possible and weaken it.

Her shout instead drew the beast’s attention and it swung its head around, snarling at her, charging. “Shiiiit!”

Kallian sprinted, arms pumping as she ran to the other end of the hall, and crying out as she dove to the side, landing hard on her shoulder and hip. The ogre shook its head, and sure enough took Kallian as the bait, as it swung for her once more, ignoring Alistair. She didn’t even have time to spare a glance for where he was. She avoided grasping fists, keeping her eyes only on the ogre, ducking out of the way of wild punches. A hand caught her and she went careening face first into a wall yet again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She scrambled away, dazed and vision blurred.

Suddenly the ogre reared back, roaring and thrashing its head.

Kallian stood, mouth agape as Alistair yanked his sword out of the beast’s back and ran to the front. The ogre leaned down and he thrust his sword upwards into it’s chest, blackened blood spurting out across Alistair’s face. It fell but Alistair did not relent. He jumped up on its body and slammed his bloodied sword into the ogre’s face, twisting it sharply and all went still.

The only movement Kallian felt was the racing of her own heart.

“Holy fucking Maker.”

“Are you alright?” Alistair rushed to her side, fiddling with the strap of her helmet to pull it off.

“Me? You just… that was fucking insane!”

“Your head, Kal. Hey, look at me?”

She pulled her eyes from the dead ogre and frowned as he held up a finger in front of her face. The finger was red with blood. There was so much blood everywhere. It was dizzying. She was dizzy.

“Kal. Hey, Kallian!” Alistair’s voice was insistent.

They’d won hadn’t they?

Her pulse throbbed in her temple and her ears were ringing loudly. She slumped suddenly. Alistair had an arm around her, letting her sit against the wall. Sitting was good. Sweat was stinging her eyes and she wiped it away, her fingers came back red with blood. “Am I bleeding?” She asked slowly.

“Maker’s breath. _Yes_. Just stay - stay with me alright?” Alistair said.

She slid her eyes shut. “Okay.” Then she hissed, suddenly alert as pressure was applied to her face, directly over her right eye. Her head felt like it was splitting open… and then it didn’t. Numbness spread upwards and the throbbing eased.

Alistair pinned the bandage closed, now wrapped slanted over her head. “Still with me, Kal?” He asked quietly, worry lining his light brown eyes.

“Ugh, fuck. Yeah.” She groaned as she lightly felt over the bandage, her head was tender. “Didn’t even realize…Alistair! The beacon!” She stood up and had to plant a hand on the wall to steady herself as her vision tunneled.

“Come on then,” he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and helped her walk over to the torch. When she looked at him in confusion, he flashed an earnest smile, white teeth under the layer of dark blood that painted his face. “We made it together. We’ll light it together.”

Kallian smiled. “ _You_ killed the ogre though. Can’t wait to tell the guys about that. You’ll be _ogre slayer_ or some shit.” Kallian laughed weakly. “Good thing they sent their best wardens to the tower, yeah?”

“Chantry boy is such a lovely title though. I’d be so sad to see it go,” he said tongue-in-cheek. Alistair snorted, but she swore his ears turned just a bit red at the compliment.

He lit the torch and they each held a hand on it as they lowered it to the base of the beacon, flames licking up the kindling until a huge column of flame burst out the top of it, signalling down below. Even the downpour of rain couldn’t put it out.

While Kallian leaned against the wall, Alistair went and checked on the two fallen men. The guard was indeed dead. Dammit.

“Do you think we made it in time?” Kallian asked.

“I hope-”

The door at the end of the hall burst open.

“No,” Kallian whispered. Her heart dropped out of her chest.

An army of darkspawn burst forth, hailing arrows down upon them. She staggered upright, daggers back in her palms. An arrow ripped through her chest, then another. Kallian was on her knees, then her face met stone. She couldn’t catch her breath. “Al-” She choked, coughing up blood.

Shrieking, and roaring. Death looked like a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A week late but I should be back to every 2 weeks on Sunday/Monday unless school gets hectic again (and it probably will lets be honest). Let me know your thoughts in the comments and sorry again for making such lovable OC wardens just for them to die :) hehe
> 
> As always thanks to my dear friend and beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata)


	6. Out of the Wilds

Her bed was so warm, Kallian just didn’t want to get up. She hoped Shianni wouldn’t come barging in like she always did. She blinked slowly, then shut her eyes tight and rolled over, groaning as every muscle in her body protested. She must have slept funny. Kallian blinked again and frowned - the fireplace wasn’t supposed to be across from her bed.

She abruptly sat up and had to press a palm to her forehead as it throbbed painfully. Not her home. Tent - wait, why wasn’t she in a tent? She wasn’t supposed to be at home anyway. As her heart rate sped, a voice sounded, startling her more.

“You wake at last.”

Kallian pulled the blankets up to her naked chest. The woman turned, dark hair so black against pale white skin, and striking yellow eyes that Kallian wouldn’t be able to forget. “You! Where - What’s going on?” Her palm went to her chest, remembering darkspawn, and choking. She expected to find puckered skin from arrow wounds, but it was smooth and unmarred as if they'd never existed. It almost made her wonder if it had even happened.

“Yes, me. It seems your head injury has not addled your brains too much,” Morrigan said, granting Kallian a small smile. “What else do you remember? Your name, I hope.” 

Kallian’s hand went to her forehead, a ridged scar lined over her eyebrow. So that much had definitely happened. “Yeah, I know my name,” she scoffed. “So uh, thank you?” She was still trying to catch up. “How am I… where am I? The signal! Morrigan, I have to get back. The army-”

“Quit the field. Your general did not heed the signal. All who remained perished.” At Kallian’s muted silence, Morrigan continued. “Mother managed to rescue you and your dimwitted friend, at least. And you are here in her hut in the wilds, where you have been for nigh on two days.” Morrigan fetched clothing from a small set of drawers and handed them to Kallian. “And it is mother you should be thanking. I am no healer.”

Dread sunk into Kallian’s stomach like a rock. The dissonance with Morrigan’s casual words and the absolute desolation they spoke of didn’t register together in Kallian’s mind. It didn’t make sense! “ _ All _ ? You can’t mean all. Why would Loghain ignore the signal? We lit it - we lit the fucking beacon! We killed a fucking ogre for that beacon!” Kallian grabbed the shirt but didn’t put it on. Her mind was reeling too much to make her hands move. Men like Ricardin, men like  _ Duncan _ weren’t just dead, like that. “Everyone?” She asked again in a small voice. 

“Mother confirmed it,” Morrigan spoke plainly. “You would not want to venture to that battlefield now. Get dressed,” she urged. “Mother does want to speak with you now that you are well within the land of the living.”

Still, Kallian made no effort to move from the bed. “Some must have gotten away. Not all, that's... You said my friend,” she clung by her fingertips to any hopeful words. “Do you mean Alistair? He made it?”

“Blubbering away like a fool the whole time but yes, he too lives.”

Not alone! “How did she rescue us? The tower was filled, overwhelmed. Was it magic?”

“She turned into a very large bird and plucked you from the tower with her talons and flew here.” 

Large brown eyes blinked at the answer - too ridiculous to be the truth. Morrigan didn't crack a smile and Kallian found her impossibly hard to read. “You're… Are you having me on?” 

“Why don't you ask mother yourself. Now have I sufficiently answered all of your questions yet or do you intend to keep my bed til sundown?” 

Morrigan’s patience ran thinner but Kallian's curiosity was endless. It was only the mention of staying in Morrigan's bed that kept her next deluge of questions from spilling forth. 

After hastily tying her breastband on and shrugging on her noticeably cleaner clothes, Kallian took the set of leathers Morrigan offered to her. She held up the chest piece, crestfallen as her fingers poked through holes in the front and back. Three holes in the front! Maker, had she really taken that many arrows? It seemed all the more a miracle that she was breathing. 

Outside the sun shone, but was dimmed by the overbearing fog that hung over the wilds like a cloak. It made time feel funny with the sun out, yet pale like late afternoon or early in the morning. A lone figure stood amongst the reeds with his head hanging down, morose like the proverbial weeping willow beside the hut.

“Alistair,” Kallian's voice sounded too loud in the strange stillness of the swamp.

He turned and sullen features morphed into upturned lips and creases at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “You're - you're alive!” His larger strides had Alistair right in front of Kallian in two steps. “I thought I'd lost you too.” And she was swept up into a hug.

Kallian didn't know how much she needed that hug until she found her hands clasping tightly on his back and tension easing from her shoulders. 

When they pulled apart Kallian saw his eyes were rimmed red, and they shared a look. No words were needed to convey what they both were feeling. Lost.

Alistair turned away eventually, staring back out across the shallow pond. “All of them. Gone. Even Cailan.  _ Why _ would Loghain do this? He’s cost us everything!”

The devastation was immeasurable. Dawning realization crept up Kallian’s spine and she threaded her fingers back through her hair. “It’s a Blight. It’s a fucking  _ Blight _ , Alistair and we’re the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Two!” Her head tilted back, searching the trees and skies as if somewhere there might be an answer to everything. “Three days,” she murmured to herself. “I just joined. How- I don’t even know how you stop a Maker forsaken Blight! How? We can’t just…” 

“Duncan should be here.” 

The answer of course always had lay within Duncan. Their mentor, the senior warden, the fucking Warden Commander. The whole order reduced to two barely-adults. Her chest felt too tight.

Kallian swallowed tightly. Army gone. Wardens dead. A horde of darkspawn growing in the south. They  _ needed _ wardens. “Loghain fucked us. No, he fucked over all of Ferelden. Wardens were made to stop Blights. He  _ ruined _ us!” Focusing on Loghain gave her anger, and anger burned away any other feelings for the moment. “Slimy piece of shit bastard. Do you think he planned this all?”

“He saw the signal, and deliberately abandoned everyone… But why? What good would having our armies wiped out do any of us? The king too? His daughter is married to the king, for the Maker’s sake!” Alistair swung his hands out wide in exasperation.

“So maybe to give him… or the queen more power? Fucking nobles will do anything, no matter how many get killed, just to get richer, more land, to step on the backs of more people beneath them.” Kallian was just trying to make any sense of something that felt so senseless. “Not like he cared for the wardens either. Didn’t want Cailan fighting with us, didn’t want the backup from Orlais - Orlais!” Her pulse raced, and eyes lit up. She gripped Alistair by his upper arms. “The wardens from Orlais were supposed to come. We can still get them. The Blight doesn’t give a fuck about borders and countries. All wardens fight it, right?”

Alistair was already shaking his head, not finding the same hope in the idea. “If Loghain is intent on sabotaging us, he’ll have already barred their entry for good.”

“Alistair, we need them. Who the fuck ever heard of a Blight being stopped by two wardens, two  _ junior _ wardens. Shit,” she added dryly, “I’m more a baby warden at that. You can’t just give up like that! So we summon them again! We fucking, go to the border, fuck!” As she cursed, her voice grew louder.

“I’m just being realistic! Wardens already have a bad reputation in Ferelden, on top of Orlesians. I mean, do you really think it would be that easy? ‘Hi, would you mind terribly just letting in a hundred or so armed men from the country that occupied our nation for over fifty years? Oh you would?  _ Fantastic _ ,’” Alistair mocked. “Orlais won’t risk inciting another war between the two countries. It’s Fereldan’s problem now.”

“And I suppose squabbling like a pair of children is going to defeat the darkspawn,” Morrigan’s mother crossed her arms, giving them a steely eye as she crossed the path towards them. “No?” She pressed when Kallian and Alistair remained tight lipped and frowning. “Then perhaps a plan. Grey Wardens are surely not without allies. Or are there no friends among the wardens these days?”

Alistair’s shoulders dropped. “Well, Arl Eamon’s men never came to Ostagar. His army is still intact. I suppose we could… go to him?” He turned to Kallian as if looking for permission.

In her experience, men didn’t listen to elves, so noble men definitely wouldn't. “And why would he listen to us? He doesn’t even know us.”

Floundering for just a second Alistair said, “Well, he’s - he’s Cailan’s uncle. Once he hears about the king’s death, I’m sure he won’t want to side with a traitor. He’ll have to help.”

“Now we are getting somewhere. An army, but are these all the tools at your disposal? Is this enough to defeat the darkspawn, the archdemon?”

Kallian scoffed. “Yeah, we have maybe,  _ maybe _ , a small army but we don't have wardens and we don't know how to kill the archdemon. I mean, maybe all it takes is a good sword through the head.” It still didn't change the fact that the two most inexperienced wardens, and Kallian barely felt a warden in this moment, were left alone to face a Blight in Ferelden. “And what do you know about any of this anyway, who even are you?”

“Do you require a name?” Morrigan’s mother asked. “Pretty but useless things, but if you so desire, you may call me Flemeth.”

“Flemeth?  _ The _ Flemeth?” Alistair balked. “Daveth was right. The witch of the wilds, from all the tales.”

Flemeth cackled. “Do you believe every story you are told, boy? And we have no time to discuss me. The darkspawn are practically nipping at our heels, yes, I think they are.”

“So we go to Redcliffe… and, Kal, the treaties! Duncan gave them to me for safekeeping while he went to - to battle.” Alistair trailed off, lost in thoughts of all the fallen.

Kallian caught on though. “So they're what, some sort of agreement, to fight darkspawn?” she prompted. 

He came back to the present, nodding. “The Dalish, mages, even dwarves - everyone has to come together when a Blight threatens.”

“Elves, mages, dwarves, this Arl - sounds like an army worthy of defeating the Blight, to me. You have your quest do you not? And I too shall offer help in my own way. Morrigan!” she called.

An army they didn't have yet! Kallian didn't get much of a chance to protest.

“Coming mother. The stew is almost finished. Shall there be two guests, or none?”

Hopefully none, Kallian thought, as she didn’t relish staying among these wild witches any longer than necessary - even if this Flemeth had decided to rescue them. 

“They will be leaving,” Flemeth confirmed what Kallian hoped. “And you shall be going with them.”

“What?” Kallian said sharply.

Morrigan too, protested, “Mother, I am not ready. I haven’t prepared. It’s too soon!”

“Sometimes to find out if one can swim, one must be dropped, feet first into the ocean,” said Flemeth with a cackle.

Morrigan nodded, resigned to her fate. “I suppose. If you think that is truly what’s best.”

Alistair interjected, “We’re quite fine on our own. We don’t need her help. And besides,” Alistair gestured significantly, “outside of the wilds, she is an apostate.”

That remark brought a scoff from Morrigan. “I know how to go about unnoticed, or I would not have made it this far.” She raised her chin just a little higher

Flemeth’s voice cut through the conversation like steel. “You will take her with you, for you will need her help if you are both to survive the trials ahead of you.”

Alistair had a point about Morrigan being an apostate, and Kallian didn’t altogether trust Flemeth. She hardly believed in altruism. Just what did the witch get out of this arrangement? Kallian opened her mouth to question her again.

“No more questions, child,” Flemeth stopped her. “You have your task. If we stand around waiting for you to run out of questions the darkspawn will be upon us before you can make it out of the wilds.”

* * *

 

Once more, Kallian was traversing through the wilds and with Morrigan as their guide, yet in a day’s time everything had been shattered. Every time she thought she was putting together what her new life would be, it got swept out from under her. First with Nelaros, now Duncan and the rest of the wardens. All of the wardens. Loghain had fucked them all, sold out the king, and deserted. Everyone had been massacred. The thought was still inconceivable.

Alistair plodded heavily behind her, walking even slower than Kallian was. His steps weighed by loss, grief, the heavy burden the lone two wardens faced. How were they to stop a Blight by themselves? 

“I may know all the shortcuts, but walk any slower and the darkspawn will be upon us regardless,” Morrigan nagged. 

Kallian frowned at her back, picking up her pace only slightly. Alistair still strayed behind. Heavy. For all the healing that Flemeth had done for them both her insides felt battered and bruised by things that no magic could cure. Alistair had known the wardens for even longer, no wonder he detached as soon as their destination had been figured out.

“How far to Lothering, exactly?” Kallian forced herself to keep up with their reluctant guide. What she wanted to know was how far til they found a proper bed, a proper meal - anything to dispel the worm of hopelessness wriggling in. 

“‘Tis a four day walk; one to get us out from the wilds but it will be longer if your mopey friend trails behind anymore. We will end up fighting them off at our tails.”

“We just lost fucking everything. It's not moping!” Kallian jumped to Alistair's defence. 

“You are alive. As long as that remains so, you have not lost everything,” Morrigan stated.

Of course Kallian was grateful for her life, but that didn't erase everything else they had lost. Sometimes there was more to lose than just your own life. But Kallian didn’t say that aloud to the witch, who obviously didn’t care. 

Silence settled on them like a blanket. It left far too much time for Kallian to think. She kept running her hand over the punctured holes in her armour. Where was she going to get it repaired? How much would it cost? Three arrow holes in the front, and then another big rip in the back from a mace. She didn’t think getting new leathers was an option. She was back at square one again, with barely any coin, which at least wasn’t such a trouble as some may think. She grew up in the alienage; it was one problem she was always prepared to deal with. Raising an army, however, was  _ not _ .

While Morrigan kept to herself, a wooden staff marking her steps, Alistair struggled to put one foot in front of the other. When conversation and planning had died, he was left to grief. Kallian recognized it well enough. The way surroundings didn’t seem to matter, nor the passing of time. It made for a silent procession through the wilds.

When night fell, they pressed onward. They ate cheese and dried meat as they walked. Even if Morrigan knew every hidden path, and Alistair could sense if darkspawn were near, no one fancied being so exposed while sleeping. 

Though it was late into the night when they finally reached the edge of the wilds, Kallian did not feel weariness as she expected. It made sleeping on the thin bedroll of old blankets Flemeth provided more difficult, as she could not depend on simply being tired enough to fall into an easy sleep. Anxious thoughts plagued her. She was a warden, proud of that, and she was plenty skilled with blades in her hands. But this was too big a task. She couldn’t fully comprehend what more obstacles would lie ahead for an elf from an alienage.

Her fellow warden was only spaced a couple feet away. “Alistair,” she murmured, just wanting to feel a little less alone. 

He didn’t answer. Curled over on his side, facing away, Kallian almost thought him sleeping, but her keen ears picked up on the muffled sniffling. 

Kallian wasn’t used to feeling alone. She’d grown up with friends to play with, a family to come home to, a community. The Grey Wardens had already started feeling like… not home, exactly, but like belonging. They invited her by the fire, shared their shitty Grey Whiskey and laughed easily. She’d felt respect, maybe even a bit of pride in some of their eyes when they witnessed her knock Henric on his back. Had they wondered what happened to her and Alistair when the beacon went unlit? Had they been alive to feel the weight of Loghain’s absence when the flare of the beacon finally did surge into the sky? They would have died fighting, even against all odds, that much Kallian knew from the short time she’d spent with them. And it would have done no good. 

Loghain would get his, when the time came.

The next day followed much the same. Alistair remained silent, avoiding Kallian’s eyes when she searched for them, so she didn’t press. No one should be forced to share their grief like they owed that comfort to those who insisted on being near them. 

They stopped as the sun dimmed. Not so late as the previous day’s trek, and Morrigan proved at least one use when with a flick of her hand, flames leapt onto the stack of logs, crackling as the fire grew.

“That’s handy,” Kallian said. “Faster than flint.”

Morrigan granted her a smile - if a small twitch at the corner of her lips could be considered such. “I also cook, should that be necessary.”

The last thing Kallian wanted after already having Morrigan forced upon them, was to make her think she was supposed to be looking after every need. As if Kallian didn’t know perfectly well how to cook!

“It really isn’t. If we at least had a bit of meat, I can always throw something together... and I dunno, mushrooms? Maybe? What exactly are you supposed to do about vegetables?” She was from the city. Food came from markets, which came from farmers. She knew nothing of foraging. Her scavenging meant quick hands at produce stalls, or even a stolen pie once on a dare. 

Morrigan was taken aback. “Mushrooms, a large variety of roots - though you’d have to know which ones are hearty food from those that induce hallucinations. ‘Tis not hard.” She placed a hand on her hip, a sneer souring her features. “Did you never fly far from the cage they call an alienage to learn anything of the world? How do you hope to gather armies when you can’t tell Queen’s lace from poison hemlock?” 

It was true that Kallian didn’t know the difference. “If it takes living in a fucking swamp to know what sodding plants are even edible. I’ll pass. Haven’t you heard of, oh, I dunno, maybe potatoes? Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew?”

Morrigan’s plush lips drew into a thin line. “No matter.  _ I _ will attend to food, while you… dither about.”

“I’m not  _ dithering _ -” 

With a swish, the woman before her vanished into a bird as black as Morrigan’s hair and flew into the sky. 

For a moment, Kallian struggled to understand what her eyes were telling her. Her sudden indignance at Morrigan’s choice words was bubbling up waiting to explode and the woman had just...  _ what the fuck _ ? Her brows creased, her mouth tried to form shapes, and nothing came out. She was struck dumb - for a second.  “A  _ bird _ ?” She kicked her boot in the dirt and sat down in front of the fire, still scowling. Kallian scoffed loudly. “Bitch!” She finally yelled at the Morrigan-bird that was now a black speck in the sky. 

“Why are you calling a bird a bitch?” Alistair spoke for the first time that day. 

He had been sitting quietly, a solemn stare into the fire, and Kallian had left him to his thoughts. It would have felt like intruding. She didn’t know those men like he did. A single day didn’t measure up to living among the wardens for months. And there was nothing she hated more than hearing that someone was ‘by the Maker’s side now’ so she didn’t bother with that useless bit of so-called comfort either. 

Talking shit about Morrigan sounded like a great diversion. 

She plopped herself down beside him. “Because the bird is Morrigan and she’s a fucking bitch. Oh hey, guess what other weird witch magic she has? Apparently turning into birds is a thing.”

He blinked, surprised as he looked around and realized Morrigan, indeed, was suddenly gone. “What the-? That’s just... creepy,” said Alistair. 

“Mm,” Kallian grunted. “Apparently I’m not capable of even making some sodding food so she’s doing that too. Like I’m a bloody child,” she scoffed. 

“Can you cook, then?” She could hear Alistair’s ears practically perking up in his tone. “I learned the basics from a few of the wardens. Pevinski pretty much showed me how to make sure the meat’s done. Done enough so you don’t get sick. Duncan said it hardly counted as food, that it’d… kill him… if he ate it.” His voice was choked and she could feel him slipping away to grief again.

“I can cook,” she easily passed over his grieved words. “Stews and soups mostly. I know how to bake a sourdough bread too, but, not like we have stuff for that out here. Give me any ingredients; I’ll make it taste good.” There was a bit of pride in her voice. While Morrigan dismissed her so easily, Kallian knew she was more than capable. 

“Good… that’s good.” He was quiet for a bit longer and when he spoke, Kallian wasn’t even sure at first if he was speaking for her benefit. “I’m glad Duncan recruited you. That is… I’m glad you’re here. I thought… I thought I was the only one. I don’t know what I would have done.”

She leaned against his broad shoulder, a weary sigh passing through her lips. “At least we aren’t completely alone. And we have a bird for company!” The jest was weak though, in the face of all Kallian and Alistair had up against them now.

Alistair dug a stick in the mud before tossing it into the fire. “Should’ve been me. I should have been down in the fight with the rest of the wardens. Why Duncan? Why did he have to go and not me?”

“You deserve to be alive just as much as I do. Are you saying we shouldn’t have been rescued?” Kallian tried to keep the harsh edge out of her voice. “I’m not saying Duncan deserved to die, of course he didn’t, none of them did, but it’s not as if I’m so ready to wish myself dead. And you shouldn’t be either.” It was only luck that saved them both - that they had been the ones sent to the tower. She was thankful enough for that.

Scrubbing hands down his face, Alistair kept his head in his palms. “I just can’t believe it. That he’s gone.  _ Really  _ gone. All of them. I don’t know what, what am I to do.”

“You wait for time to pass mostly. Try not to think about it.” 

Peering brown eyes met hers instead of hiding. “Have you? Lost someone before, that is?”

It was Kallian’s turn to let her gaze run away. “Yeah. My mum. Two years ago.” She folded her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. And it still hurt. She wished she had someone to blame other than herself and faceless, nameless men. 

“I’m sorry, Kallian... I never knew my mother, but I imagine you must miss her.” 

She only hummed in response. Somehow this had been turned to her still lingering grief rather than Alistair’s. “It’s in the past.” She wished the past would stay there, but curiosity always nagged her. “Duncan knew her. It’s how he knew of me, I guess. Said she helped him… only… I guess I’ll never really know what happened. He didn’t get a chance to tell me.” That was just another piece of her mother lost now too. Funny how even that, just a lost memory, could bring a sharp pain to her heart.

“I just… it’s so senseless… Duncan, that is. How do you ever make sense of it?” 

“You fucking survive and make sure Loghain gets what he deserves.” Kallian’s lip curled. Revenge would be good. “At least you know who to blame.”

“You think  _ revenge _ will make me feel better?”

“There’s a certain satisfaction.” The pleasure that settled in her chest when Vaughan gurgled his last breath. That was satisfaction.

Alistair fixed her with an odd look. “You’re a bit scary. Do you know that? You wouldn’t think it with how little you are, but… scary.”

Kallian burst out in surprised laughter. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

A beat passed. “How did it happen? Your mother?” Alistair asked with melancholy successfully settling in once more.

“Senseless.” Kallian snorted. She knew the senselessness Alistair spoke of firsthand. Her voice hollowed. “It was fucking shems. And it never makes sense,” she muttered. 

A sort of choked laugh escaped him. “Guess I get why you seemed to hate me so much when we met.” Alistair sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, sorry, that’s not funny. I only meant that - well, it’s fine, that you don’t like humans. Not that you need my permission. I’ll just… be... shutting up.”

“Thanks for your permission.” Kallian cracked a half smile, perfectly happy to move on from the topic of her mother. “And I didn’t  _ hate _ you, just didn’t like you is all. You’re not such a shem after all, it turns out.”

Alistair didn’t respond, and she caught him lost in the hypnotic flickering flames. Kallian tilted her head against his shoulder in silent comfort.

While Alistair retreated back inside his own head, Kallian and Morrigan managed to figure out their meal. Kallian’s dignity and independence wouldn’t allow Morrigan to be the one doing all the guiding and cooking and making camp. Without leaving room for argument, Kallian took the basket of roots and herbs and made a broth, agreeing that Morrigan could find the food, but Kallian would cook it. It was small but one necessary truce needed in order to deal with the witch’s presence. That didn’t mean Kallian would like her.

She only hoped Alistair would be able to focus more once they got closer to Lothering, but only a few days was hardly time to get over all that happened - even she was still shook, a bit lost. Kallian only had vague ideas of what they were supposed to be doing. Alistair was the senior warden between the pair so she imagined it fell to him to pull himself together and work on this army-gathering business. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if Kallian was familiar with maps and the ways to Redcliffe, nor anywhere else in Ferelden. And she hated to admit that at least in this, she did need Morrigan, who knew how to get them to a town.

Another day later and they welcomed the sight of buildings, walls, even a windmill in the distance. When actual roads greeted Kallian’s eyes she knew they were back into familiar territory. Civilization! Maybe they could figure out what the fuck they were doing, have a decent meal, maybe an inn with a roof over their heads. The aching in her feet seemed to lessen, and a surge of energy drove her footsteps faster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's chat in the comments! Let me know your thoughts because I'd love to hear them :)


	7. Lothering and the Imperial Highway

Six darkspawn now lay dead at their feet, and the mabari was panting, with tongue lolling out and teeth showing in a doggy grin.

“You think they chased him all the way from Ostagar?” Kallian asked as she scratched his chin. “I’d put coin down that this is the same dog I helped.” His eyes were intelligent, looking at her as if with recognition. “How did he get here? How did he find us?”

“I think he’s imprinted on you,” said Alistair. “And... I think that means you should give him a name.”

“So the mangy mutt shall be joining us?” Morrigan complained.

“You think so?” She said, ignoring Morrigan. Kallian grinned at the mabari. “His name is Fang,” she decided. “And he rips out darkspawn throats like he was born to.”

“Can’t say I mind having him along.” Alistair joined Kallian, kneeling in front of the large warhound who was acting the silly puppy with his butt shaking and stump of a tail wagging. “Who’s a good dog. You are. Yes, you are!”

“So a _dog_ joins us and now you see fit to stop your blubbering.” Morrigan let out a huff of air.

“Like you wouldn’t be upset if you lost your mother!” Alistair snapped.

“Before or after I stopped laughing? The very idea.”

“Just… leave him alone. Let’s just get to Lothering,” Kallian cut them off before Morrigan started digging deeper into Alistair’s wounds.

Before they could even make it into the town, a group of men swarmed them. A wagon blocked most of the road, and the thugs closed in on them like wolves circling their prey.

“Five silvers to pass through,” said the ringleader.

Kallian raised her eyebrow. “Oh? Toll collectors then. Damn… had I known.” She shared a conspiratorial look. “Might want to hike up those prices boys.”

“You - you want to pay _more_?” The man frowned at her.

“Oh Maker, you won’t get much from us,” Kallian laughed airily. “Honestly we have maybe a few coppers between the three of us. But, you can collect our toll’s worth and more from the caravan we came across not far behind us.”

“A caravan you say?” The broad shouldered henchman looked doubtfully at his other partners. “Those are usually heavily guarded aren’t they?”

Right. And these bandits were looking for easy prey. Another lie fell easily from her lips. “Darkspawn must have got them. It was only the one man. Elderly sort,” she added for good measure.

“Well,” said the bandit leader, “I think we can consider these folks’ toll paid in full, can’t we fellas?”

Kallian gave them a small nod, with a sly smile playing on her mouth as she passed.

That might have been it, if Kallian hadn’t caught sight of the small chest. A sliver of canvas was parted at the back of the wagon just enough to show off the glint of a metal lock. Their stolen goods? Kallian and her party were surely in more need of whatever might be in the chest than the bandits.

The lockpicks were in her fingers without much more thought on the matter. A useful skill she picked up from an alienage boy. She quietly twisted and jiggled the picks in the keyhole, focused on her task as she waited for it to give, and to hear that telltale click.

“What are you doing?” Alistair hissed.

“Oi!” One of the bandits turned and saw Kallian with her hands on their stuff and the fight she had wanted to avoid came at them in full force.

If only they had kept their goods more hidden.

Kallian parried the first swing of a sword in her direction with one dagger, and reached for her right while she twisted out of the way of his next downward swing. She got in close and stabbed him in the eye before he could attack again. Down he went and she turned to face her next foe. Their daggers clashed, each scoring cuts across each other’s arms but never connecting with that lethal strike.

Fang lunged out of nowhere, and the Mabari’s weight alone was enough to knock the bandit flat on his back. Kallian’s eyes went round as Fang clamped his jaws over the man’s neck, twisted once, and the man lay limp - neck broken. Another efficient kill.

“Good boy!” She exclaimed.

Then there were no other bandits for her and Fang to fight. The two left were frozen statues. Alistair’s sword crashed through each one with a wicked show of strength and they shattered into bloody frozen chunks. It was a gory show that left Kallian more impressed than disgusted.

With just a staff, Morrigan had managed to immobilize their enemies, making easy targets for Alistair to hack down. And she had barely moved from where she stood when the fight broke out. It left Kallian curious to find out what more magic the witch could perform, if it was as awesome as that. Not that Kallian would let Morrigan know that she thought it was awesome.

“I guess you two can work together after all,” said Kallian.

Alistair scoffed at that, then frowned and gestured over at the chest. “Why did you have to go and do that?”

Kallian shrugged nonchalantly as she rubbed her forearm down her face to clear it of sweat and spots of blood. She resumed her lockpicking and with just another twist it popped open. “Knew I almost had it.” She opened the lid and started pulling out items. “They wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t get all shocked and whispery at me, Chantry Boy.” A handful of silvers, a few rings, a silver engraved bracelet and a string of pearls. “Worth it,” she sang.

“Like a magpie who cannot resist a shiny object,” Morrigan rebuked. Though her yellow eyes strayed to the jewelry with interest.

Kallian pocketed the necklace and rings, then tossed the bracelet to Morrigan. “One for you, a bit for me, and,” she pressed the silvers into Alistair’s hand, “for you. There. Everybody wins.”

“‘Twas still foolish,” Morrigan muttered as she turned the silver band over in her hands, until she eventually put it on.

Everybody liked things, plain and simple. Could they really be mad about it when now the bandits were dead after an easy fight, and they were richer for it?

At least Fang was happy enough to walk at her side without complaint or questions. He even kept bumping his head up against her arm, looking for pets and scratches under the chin.

There weren’t any more bandits or darkspawn along the rest of the imperial highway, making for a swift walk. Everyone was subconsciously walking a little faster the closer they got, all eager to reach that first stop.

Lothering was a small town, pretty enough in its own right, with farmlands sprawling out all around it. What was more striking than the simple beauty of a farming town, was the fact that the lands were heavily dotted with people and tents, the sheer number of wagons camped out around the city’s exterior and the otherwise displaced people milling about.

“Already so many refugees from the Blight, in just a few days since Ostagar,” murmured Alistair.

Kallian frowned. “Then how did _we_ not have any trouble getting out of the wilds? The darkspawn were literally coming from there.”

“Mother’s magic gave us safe harbour,” Morrigan supplied. “But there is only so far her reach can extend.”

How powerful was Flemeth?

A templar stopped them before they could get past the gates into the village. Kallian kept her eyes fixed ahead, trying not to glance dubiously at Morrigan. Could they already tell she was an apostate?

“I’m sorry but you should know we simply don’t have any more room. The tavern’s been booked up for days and the chantry just can’t take in any more people. If you’re stopping here, it’ll be out in the fields like the rest, I’m afraid,” said the templar, sounding haggard.

“Well… Andraste’s tits,” Kallian faltered. All she had been wanting for days was a fucking bed. “Is there anywhere we could at least get supplies before we go?”

The templar held out his arms, gesturing to everyone around them. “The soldiers who came through from Ostagar already commissioned most everything for the war. What was left was mostly bought up by the refugees. They just keep coming. And there’s nothing we can even do for them.”

“Soldiers?” Alistair asked. “Did Loghain’s forces come through here?”

The templar nodded. “And with troubling news at that. The Blight looming over us and the Grey Wardens use it to try and usurp the king. King Cailan - dead! Dear Maker, I can hardly fathom the idea.”

“What?” Alistair yelled.

Kallian elbowed him in the side. Her first instinct was to keep her lips shut. They knew nothing. They were nobody. She curtly thanked the templar before all but dragging Alistair away with a firm grip on his elbow.

“People can’t honestly believe that!” He exclaimed as soon as they were far out of earshot.

Of course Loghain would need a story to explain King Cailan’s death. “Fucking perfect. Fuck,” Kallian swore and pushed her fingers back through her hair, gripping at the roots. “People don’t know we’re wardens… and they _can’t_ know,” she said firmly.

“But we have to tell people the truth! What really happened! We can’t just let them tear down the Grey Warden name like that, we can’t let him do that to Duncan,” he pleaded.

“Maybe not everyone believes Loghain,” she said, but wasn’t too hopeful. “The darkspawn are coming. People will have to realize they need the wardens, and it better be sooner rather than fucking later.” Or else before they could even bring those treaties to the elves, dwarves, and mages, they were going to have to convince each person they went through of the Grey Wardens’ innocence, before even considering discussing the threat of the Blight.

“You’re right,” Alistair sighed. “There are still people with sense out there. Not everyone will believe him. I just wish… ” His eyebrows drew downwards and he trailed off.

That things hadn’t turned out like this? That Duncan was there to guide them? That not every single possible fucking thing kept stacking against their odds? Any and all of the above.

“Most people are sheep that will follow whatever shepherd is guiding them. I would not be so quick to trust common sense to kick in. ‘Tis a rare gift these days,” Morrigan surmised.

“Yeah.” Kallian had to agree with her on this one. People could not be trusted. “Let’s just see what we can scrape together and get out of here as soon as we can.”

They didn’t need to go far to stumble across a man displaying his wares from a wagon. There were assortments of pots and pans, blankets and pillows, even some knives and daggers among the household items.

Kallian wanted to ask about tents and the like but the seller was in the middle of an argument with a chantry sister and a tall curvy woman with black hair. None of her business but she did wonder why someone from the chantry was making a fuss.

“You're cheating these folks out of their money! I'll not have it,” the chantry sister said shrilly.

_Last time I checked that was just called making coin_. In Kallian’s experience, the people selling shit didn’t care who could afford it, it was just about profit.

“It’s called supply and demand,” the man sneered.

The woman crossed her arms and stepped a foot closer. “You'll _supply_ these goods at a fair price or I'll _demand_ you leave with a bloody nose.”

Kallian snorted, putting a hand to her mouth but failing to muffle the burst of laughter. That was an attitude she could get behind.

“You can't stop me from selling my wares! I have every right to!” The merchant cried.

“You can sell your wares. Cheaper. Or you're out of here,” the dark haired woman hissed.

The man chewed on the inside of his cheek before spitting out, “Fine.”

“Thank you, Marian. Villains like him need to be put in their place,” said the sister. “Sometimes I don't know what we'd do without you around here.”

Marian pursed her lips and shook her head at the sister's back. “That's ironic.” She turned to Kallian. “Sorry about all that. Feel free to take advantage of a generous discount.” She arched a thin eyebrow, piercing blue eyes taking in Kallian from head to toe. “Not that you look like the type to _need_ help… Who are you exactly?”

Good question. To someone she just met? Not a Grey Warden, that was for sure. “Kallian,” was all she gave.

“And your rather interesting companions?” Marian pressed.

“Alistair,” she said, jutting one thumb over her shoulder, “and Morrigan,” she nodded to her left. Maker’s breath, why so curious? Acting as if she owned the place. Fang whined then, and butted his head up against her stomach. “Oh,” she laughed, “and Fang.”

Those too-bright eyes lit up. “Oh that’s _your_ mabari! We have one too.” She held out a hand for Fang to sniff, who apparently judged her worthy enough for a good few head pats. “Marian Hawke, by the way. Most just call me Hawke. Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but elves aren’t supposed to carry weapons are they?”

Kallian bristled.

“Hey, I’m the last person to go and report someone for something as inconsequential as that. Simply an observation. I heard Grey Wardens recruit anyone; elves, dwarves… mages. You’re coming from the south, right? Can’t help but remember there were a lot of wardens back at Ostagar.” And she made a point to look at Morrigan’s staff. “Nice ‘walking stick’ by the way. Have one just like it at home.”

Normally large and wide, Kallian’s eyes narrowed considerably. “I don’t know what you’re getting at,” she hissed, moving closer, “but you better keep your bloody observations to yourself.”

Hawke’s eyes flashed. “All I’m getting at, is my brother watched while the flames of the signal went off, and no one came for aid. While _Grey Wardens_ fought to the death, Loghain is the one walking free. Just another observation.”

“Your brother was at Ostagar?” Alistair asked. “And he’s - he made it back?”

“Barely,” said Hawke, her lips tightening together. “Stubborn ox scrambled through the wilds with broken ribs and a twisted ankle. Made it ten times worse. Mother wants us to be on our way, move out with the rest of the refugees, but we have to wait for Carver to be well enough to travel again.” Her eyes brightened. “So I pass my time harassing street vendors. Make a game of how many people I can piss off in one day.”

“I’ve always found myself rather good at that game.” Alistair smiled wryly. “I’m glad to know your brother will be okay. Others were not so lucky, you should be thankful.”

“Oh, I am.” She tucked a stray hair back up into the pile wound on top of her head. “Anyway, I reckon I can give you a rundown of the town. The Chantry’s pretty well useless - Ser Bryant is sort of acting in charge but not much he can do for the refugees. We had a few craftsmen here, but most have already closed up shop so you’ll have to poke your head around to see who’s still willing to work - coin always helps grease a few hands. Tavern’s full but there’s always food there, and… guess that’s about it. Unless you want to go fight some bears? The chanter’s board has a notice with a fifty silver reward for someone to get rid of the bear family out by the river.”

“Bears?” Kallian’s eyebrows raised. They did need coin. “Thanks for the tip. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Hawke smiled and winked. “Hope to.” She swaggered off back the way they had come in, a hand wave in the air without looking back.

Alistair cocked his head, watching for a second. “She was quite interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

He was still watching her backside. “ _You_ seem to be interested.” Kallian snickered.

“Typical of men to fall hypnotized by the sway of a woman’s hips. So easily you succumb to your worldly desires, Alistair.” Morrigan was smirking even as she rolled her eyes.

He blushed and turned his body completely away from Hawke’s direction. “I only meant it was interesting to find out there were other survivors from Ostagar! It means Loghain won’t be able to just get away with this. People saw what really happened.”

Kallian laughed, genuine hope actually taking root in her for the first time since waking up at Flemeth’s hut. “True. And you liked her ass. It’s a nice one, no need to be ashamed.” She was giving Alistair her best shit-eating grin right now.

“I did not!” He started walking brusquely into town. “Let’s just go see about this bear business.”

“Hoping to impress her with your show of strength? Slay the bears in her honour?” Kallian couldn’t stop herself from teasing as she followed along with quick footsteps.

“Maker preserve me,” he groaned.

“You’re too easy. Anyway, I have an easier idea than bears. Quicker too - if you’re me.” Small risk, and immediate reward; that was her game plan. “You can see what those silvers can get us, and I’ll head over to the tavern.”

“Kallian,” Alistair warned. “What are you planning?”

She scoffed, flapping a hand in the air. “The drunks won’t notice a few coppers missing here and there.” Kallian was already taking steps backwards as she spoke, not planning to be persuaded in any other direction.

“Seriously? There are other ways to - Kal!”

She jogged away, impishly giggling. “Meet you in a bit!”

The Tavern, Dane’s Refuge as the sign said, was just as crowded as Kallian hoped it would be. Every seat was taken and there were some more standing, waiting for available space. It was perfect for her to slip through. Humans were well-practiced at pretending elves were invisible, so much so that many an elf could turn this to their advantage. Why, just by squeezing between people to work her way to the barkeep, Kallian already pocketed a few coins. Her straying fingers went unnoticed.

The drunkest of the lot were the ones standing right at the head of the bar, haphazardly throwing down coppers and sloshing their ale over the sides of their mugs as they talked. Her fingers itched to reach out and just grab that change while it was out there.

Kallian tossed a cork left on the bar at a stack of empty bottles shelved behind the barkeep, sending a few wobbling over. While the men were distracted, she snatched a few of the coins from the table.

“Hey!”

She stiffened, then smoothly straightened and waited half a second before turning. No need to act suspicious even if she might have been caught. She pretended to be the casual observer, eyes peering just like everyone else’s for what caught a man’s interest.

It was Alistair being shouted at. And being held at sword point!

“Shit.” Kallian pushed her way to the tavern’s entrance.

“You’re one of the wardens from Ostagar. Traitor!” The man yelled, and two more flanked him, also drawing swords.

“Hang on!” Kallian cried. “We’re not bloody traitors!”

“And you too?’ He spat at her feet. “Loghain knows what you did. Already a pretty bounty on any Grey Wardens we find, eh Hanson?”

“One we intend to collect,” said a fourth man, now joining the fray from the side. And the pommel of his sword came down hard on Alistair’s head.

Alistair’s knees gave out beneath him and he fell to the floor. “Fucking… shit.” Kallian yanked both daggers free of her belt and blocked a sword from slicing her ear off. Another man swung at her with an axe and she caught it in the shoulder. “Shit, shit!”

Luckily two of them weren’t wearing armour, while she was. Grunting, she attacked the axe-wielder back, forcing him to move on the defensive, and then she whirled to her right, stabbing one unarmoured man in the gut. One down. Fucking three to go. Fuck.

One tried to flank her, but the movement and noise caught her attention before he could land a blow. Her stroke towards his stomach was blocked by a sword, however, and she was forced to retreat again. Her back was to a wall and now the sword was held at _her_ throat.

“Beg for your life traitor. Bet the king didn’t even get such a courtesy.”

Kallian’s heart raced, she could feel her pulsepoint throbbing where the sword touched. She licked her lips, suddenly dry. “I-”

The blade of a dagger was pressed to his neck. “Drop your weapon,” said the owner of the dagger; a woman with striking ginger hair.

His dark eyes went round as he stiffly dropped his sword arm and Kallian released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“That’s more civilized,” said the other woman, ocean coloured eyes glinting.

As soon as her dagger left his neck, the man flew back into attacking.

Kallian reacted just as quickly. With someone at her back, she was free to turn and twist her dagger into a man’s flank. It caught his ribs and he pulled away wincing. Not wanting to take a chance, she flipped the hilts of her daggers in her hands, blades pointing down, and she stabbed both into the man’s chest.

When she turned back around, it was only the man who had held both her and Alistair at swordpoint that was standing. This woman - Maker, she was wearing chantry robes! - had him on his knees and her dagger pressed against his throat, a red line already appearing on the surface of the skin.

“Have mercy!” He shouted. “Please!”

Kallian’s eyes were cold, at dissonance with her round face and dimpled cheeks. How powerful she felt, to have a human begging for her mercy. Somehow, she didn’t think he would grant the same. “I don’t think so.”

“Wait,” said the chantry sister - who Kallian couldn’t believe was the very one holding a dagger to someone’s throat! “You can use him to send a message. It shows that you are not weak, and will not be taken down so easily. A threat.”

But killing him would feel so much more satisfying! However, Kallian had also never had the means to threaten someone before…

Alistair groaned, squinting up at the tableau before him in confusion.

“Fine,” said Kallian. “Take a message to Loghain.”

“Yes! Anything you want!”

She stepped closer, forcing him to crane his neck to look up at her. “Tell him we know what really happened at Ostagar. And he won’t know when, but we’ll come for him.”

The sister released him and he scampered up off the ground and out the tavern door. The patrons remained silent, staring at the three of them with rapt attention.

“Pardon my sudden intrusion, but I could not simply stand by. My name is Leliana.”

“Don’t think apologies are needed there.” Kallian rubbed at her throat still feeling the ghost of the pointed blade on it. “Didn’t look like anyone else was about to step in. Kallian,” she said and offered a hand to Alistair, who nearly yanked her down in his effort to get up. “And this is Alistair.”

Leliana smiled sweetly at him. “I suggest we go somewhere more private to talk, yes? We’ve entertained the patrons enough for the day, and I don’t imagine we need to let their eyes linger on the Grey Wardens any longer.”

Lest anyone else get ideas in their head about fulfilling this fucking bounty. They slipped outside where Morrigan was standing with her arms crossed and glaring at Fang whenever he tried to get close to her.

“And who is this now?” said Morrigan as she followed them to a secluded bit of trees outside the Tavern.

“This is Leliana... a chantry sister? With daggers?” Kallian still couldn’t quite get those two images to make sense in her head.

Leliana giggled. “I was indeed a Chantry laysister. But you know, when they said you were a Grey Warden, I was rather surprised to see an elf, but I suppose elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kallian’s voice was venomous, “funny how we happen to live here _too_ . Might not want our fucking homes destroyed either.” Fucking shems. Yet she was surprised every time, because even the _nice_ ones were idiots.

Leliana’s face fell. “Oh no! That’s not at all what I meant. I only wanted to say that when the wardens came through here last, there weren’t any elves. Not that you shouldn’t be a warden! You fight very well!”

“For an elf, you mean?”

“Oh, Maker’s Breath.” Alistair muttered, palming his face.

“No! I - that’s not... I meant...” While Leliana stuttered Kallian only looked at her with her lips pulled together, and her brows drawn even tighter. “I want to go with you, to help stop this Blight,” she said earnestly.

Kallian’s eyebrows shot up; she didn’t even know where to begin. “Because you think I need your help? I’ve been fighting all my life. You’re a sodding sister.”

Those deep blue eyes gleamed. “Some of us had a life before the Chantry, you know. And being branded traitors on top of everything else won’t make this easy. You fight amazingly, but there is power in numbers, is there not?”

Taken aback by the sudden compliment, she took a beat before she responded. “Uh… thanks.” Kallian’s shoulders eased, straightening with the pride that blossomed in her chest. Leliana might have been the first person to not question whether Kallian was capable. With how confidently Leliana wielded daggers, she had to wonder what kind of past this sister had. “We’re pretty much roaming across most of Ferelden, camping, fighting. You sure you’re up for that?” Truthfully, Leliana looked on the softer side.

“The Maker set me on this path. I cannot be swayed from it. This is what I was meant to do!”

And Kallian had just started warming up to her a bit. “The Maker. What, _sent_ you?”

“He showed me a vision. I have to help you stop the Blight!”

“Mhmm,” said Alistair, giving Leliana the side eye, “I think we’re full up on crazy.”

Leliana’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not crazy. You need all the help you can get, don’t you?”

Religious beliefs aside, the woman was wicked with a blade and had probably saved Kallian’s life. When she fought, she didn’t act like a crazed person, she was calculating. “You’re right,” Kallian admitted. “Having you along would probably do us more good than bad, really.”

Morrigan made a _tsk_ sound. “Your skull must have been cracked worse than mother thought.”

“You’re an apostate, and we took _you_. Chantry sister isn’t gonna hurt us in any way.”

“I promise you won’t regret this. I’ll collect my things,” said Leliana.

They ended up following her back to the Chantry, as Kallian wanted to see what other jobs might be doable, besides the bears Hawke had mentioned. Alistair wanted to try to get more news about Loghain and his army so he went inside with Leliana, hoping to speak to the templar everyone kept saying was ‘sort of’ in charge.

In the end Kallian was thankful most of them went inside without her, and not just because she had a particular distaste for the Chantry. There weren’t many messages on the chanter’s board, but the ones that were there were _long_. She skimmed over the different messages, hoping for keywords to pop out at her, but they simply... didn’t. She resigned herself to slowly reading each one, line by line - and it was slow. Her lips were pursed and brows furrowed as she parsed some of the larger words together, trying her best to resist the urge to mouth the words to herself. She skipped over some lines - Chantry and doing the work of the Maker bullshit - but did get to the heart of the postings. There were the bears, which Kallian wasn’t so fond of trying to fight, some more bandit groups and three whole sovereigns for getting rid of them. That was the job then.

When Leliana returned she was wearing a sturdy set of studded leather armour, gloves and a bow and quiver slung over her back, along with her daggers now at her hips. Now Kallian could see the fighter beneath the Chantry sister.

Kallian gave her an approving nod and then pointed at the board. “So if you’re up for some action, I think I just found our payday. Three sovereigns for getting rid of some more bandits out past the town.”

“Oh!” Leliana exclaimed. “So you can read? That’s quite impressive, not many elves I’ve known could.”

An indignant gasp came from Kallian. “Of course I can fucking read. It’s not some cute trick for you to be impressed by.” Her hackles raised like an angry cat. As if reading was _impressive_.

“From the length of time you took, I wasn’t sure you could for a moment there,” Morrigan drawled.

A dark red blush spread up Kallian’s face. “I didn’t want to miss anything important!” The lie sounded weak even to her. She turned around to hide her fiercely red cheeks, and started marching off to the northern gate of the town. “Come on.”

The roads beyond Lothering were mostly deserted. Whatever bandits were there had slunk away with the setting sun. While thieves often depended on the cover of night, bandits relied on people travelling for their scores. When darkness set in, that’s when travelling stopped.

“We’ll come back again in the morning,” said Alistair. “The silvers were enough to get a pair of tents, and we already claimed a spot over this way to make camp while we’re here.”

Morrigan declined the use of the tent, so Kallian and Leliana were left to share one while Alistair took the remaining. 

“So, I wanted to ask what you think we should do?” Alistair said once they had gotten dinner prepared.

“About what?” said Kallian. “Ow, fuck!” She had burned her tongue on the thin soup and pursed her lips for a second. “Just the few sovereigns from that chanter’s board job should do us, don’t you think?” Kallian had made do with far less. 

“I was mostly talking about where we go next. We have this list of people to recruit, but where do we start?”

Kallian shrugged. “Thought you said the Arl would be our best bet.”

“Well now I’m not so sure. I talked to Ser Donall and he said the Arl isn’t well.”

Grabbing another helping of soup - Maker she was starved - Kallian sat back down. “So what, you don’t want to go check on him first? Don’t we need his army whether he’s sick or not?”

Alistair sighed. “We do. And I am worried about him - considering Isolde - that’s his wife - have got the knights off searching for a miracle cure. I just don’t know whether we should go there _first_. It’s up to you.”

“Me? Why is it up to me?”

“Alistair, are you not the senior warden here? Is it not your job to lead?” Morrigan raised her yellow eyes up from her meal.

“I hardly think six months counts as being senior. Besides... bad things happen when I lead. Someone will end up dead and me with no pants. Kallian should decide. I’m okay with whatever she picks.”

“If you don’t mind hearing my two copper’s worth,” Leliana spoke somewhat hesitant, looking to Kallian as if she might stop her. “If the Arl is as ill as the templars say, perhaps it is best to go see him first, and get his support before he is unable to do so.”

That made sense.

“And Redcliffe is closer than anywhere else we have to go,” added Alistair. “What do you think?”

“Okay. Closer sounds better. Redcliffe then... assuming you know the way?”

He nodded. “Along with the treaties, Duncan left me one of his maps. Just a matter of following the Imperial Highway.”

“Good. You can be... map person... then. Hopefully that’s a job that won’t leave you pantsless,” Kallian teased. That and she didn’t know how to read a map, had never seen one before.

“We can only hope,” Alistair sighed melodramatically.

* * *

  
  
Kallian was only awake enough to register something tapping her shoulder, and she rolled away from it, burying her face beneath the blanket. 

“Um... Kallian?”

Again more prodding her shoulder, the other one this time. She whined, shrugging her shoulder in a clear message to leave her alone. The flaps of the tent fell closed and she only blinked for a second at the bit of sun shining through the canvas before closing her eyes again tightly.

“I tried. She won’t get up. You go in there,” she could hear Leliana whispering, clear as day.

“Me? I’m not going in her tent. She’ll bite my head off!” Alistair replied.

_Shut up, shut up!_ Kallian pulled her legs back up to her body, curling into a ball.

The flaps flipped open again. “You said we should get the bandits today, better early before they can wreak more havoc on travellers,” Leliana was back and this time had tied the doors open so the sun of the too-early morning was falling right over her closed eyelids. 

“I didn’t fucking mean at the bloody crack of dawn,” Kallian growled. 

She pulled her blanket up over her face again, ignoring Leliana until she fell back asleep again. 

It didn’t seem to last very long. All too soon she heard Alistair calling out to her. “Kal, come on! We’ve already eaten. Morrigan keeps eyeing your tent like she’s going to blast it with fire, and guess what, I found a leather worker!”

“You did?” Her voice cracked with sleepiness. “How much will it cost me?”

Most of their coin, it turned out.

With all the holes pierced through the middle of her cuirass, the smith ended up recommending fashioning an entirely new one. Kallian was just thankful he wanted the gold enough that he didn’t care she was an elf, or a wanted Grey Warden. He said it would last longer than a repair, but it would also cost more, and take longer to make. 

So off to fight those bandits, and bears, and fucking wolves, and whatever else needed killing around Lothering to make it safer for all the travellers. It was an new sort of pride for Kallian to feel, being the one to help protect the town so to speak - even if it was for pay. Honestly, she wouldn’t have done it without the pay.

The four of them, plus Fang, hiked out along the road until they heard voices. Kallian and Alistair drew their blades, and Leliana got ready to string an arrow.

Scorch marks blackened the road ahead, and several singed and bloody bodies were piled to the side. After slinging a large staff over her back, Hawke turned to them. “Bastards thought they could put up a fight.”

Kallian’s jaw dropped open. “You- how did you already. Shit!” Hawke had already beat them there! “You’re the one who told us to look at the Chanter’s board, what the fuck is this shit?”

“I didn’t say you would be the only one taking the jobs,” Hawke said airily. “Takes coin to travel out of Ferelden. Ready to go, Bethany?”

Another young woman with the same thick dark hair frowned anxiously. “Marian... they didn’t see, did they?”

Hawke chuckled and gestured to Morrigan. “They’re with an apostate, they won’t rat us out.”

Alistair reacted immediately. “Apostates?”

“You can take the boy out of the Chantry, but you can’t take the templar out of the boy,” said Morrigan. “What exactly do you hope to do about it?”

His face reddened. “They should be... taken to the circle. How do the templars here not know they have apostates right under their noses?”

Morrigan smirked, and Kallian knew he had fallen right into the witch’s trap. “Perhaps because all templars are as foolish as you.”

Kallian rolled her eyes. “I’m not about to go reporting apostates. And if you do,” she warned Alistair, “they might just turn around and report Morrigan.”

“I can handle myself against some idiot templars,” Morrigan said.

“Not the point,” said Kallian. “Let’s just fucking see if those bears are still by the river and take care of them. Before Hawke beats us to that too.”

“You know,” Leliana sang, all too innocently, “we might have beaten them if someone had gotten up earlier.”

Kallian flipped her the bird. 

There were still three bears hanging out around the river, preventing people from going there to collect water. They were huge, and Kallian was not looking forward to fighting them, a bit jealous that Morrigan and Leliana could fight from range.

She skirted around the sides of them, while Alistair drew their attention, thumping his shield and running head on. “Fuck!” Kallian yelled, as the bear swung its head around and knocked into her shoulder to throw her to the ground. 

Her eyes went wide as the largest bear started charging towards Leliana after getting struck in the shoulder with one of her arrows. Morrigan raised her staff and a flurry of cold air streamed towards the bear, freezing it before it could get too close. Kallian ran up to it and jammed her dagger into the ice, stabbing it in the throat.

Alistair cried out as a bear mauled him to the ground, claws scraping against the shield he barely managed to keep a grip on. 

“Give me cover!” Kallian shouted. 

Whatever magic Morrigan was using, it made the bear attacking Alistair suddenly back off, shaking its head and wobbling on its legs, dizzy. Alistair jumped up, hacking away at it.

While several arrows buried in the smaller bear’s side. Kallian kept low to the ground, weight shifting as she skirted around the bear whenever it tried to swipe a paw at her. She stabbed, then moved, until the bear was in a rage with the pain from all the bleeding wounds it had accumulated. Leliana finished it off with a well placed arrow to the head.

“Fucking bears. Chantry better pay up for this shit.” She was out fighting bears in the country for coin. Desperate times.

While they were near the water, they took the opportunity to clean up a bit before heading back to the Chantry.

They had just reached the gates when Leliana stopped them. “Hold on. There’s something I want to show you, or rather, someone. I think he could help us too, to fight the darkspawn.”

“Someone else sent by the Maker?” Kallian asked facetiously. 

“No.” Leliana’s face fell at the teasing. “He’s a qunari, and he’s been imprisoned here for weeks. Just come with me to meet him. I think you’ll find he can be helpful to your cause.”

If there was one thing Kallian felt certain of in that moment, it was that a qunari was not going to be helpful to them, especially if he was imprisoned for something. Curiosity drove her to follow Leliana though. How often does anyone get to actually see a qunari down here in the south?

Along one wall stood a large cage, where an enormous grey-skinned man with shocking white hair stood, repeating something over and over in a foreign language. What language was it that qunari spoke?

“Hello!” Leliana said brightly.

The qunari grunted, took one look at her, then crossed his arms. “You are not one of my captors, therefore I have no need of you.”

“We want to free you!” Leliana replied.

“Uh... wait a second. Why are you locked up in the first place?” Kallian intervened before Leliana whipped out a key or something, and let this giant on the loose.

“I murdered a family,” he said point blank.

“And you want to take him with us?” Kallian whirled around on Leliana.

“He wants to atone.” 

Kallian sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair in exasperation. “Fine. Why did you kill them? Did they attack you?” There were valid reasons for murder after all.

“No,” he said.

“Okay, we’re done here!” This was ridiculous.

“Wait,” pleaded Leliana, “He can atone for his crimes by fighting the darkspawn. If we leave him here he’ll starve, he’ll be at the mercy of the coming darkspawn. That is a cruel way to leave someone to die, unable to fend for himself.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have murdered an innocent family then!” Kallian hissed. “I’m not taking him along just for him to decide killing all of us sounds like fun too.”

Leliana pouted, but Kallian wasn’t about to be swayed by one of her own oldest tricks in the book. She was still shaking her head in disbelief when they got the reward from the chanter. Maybe the sister really was just a bit crazy.

* * *

  
While Kallian waited for her new armour to be made, she and her companions spent their days doing whatever odd jobs they could find. 

And Hawke seemed to run into them at nearly every corner. It was infuriating! She just kept laughing and giving them that stupid wink as she beat them to scaring off a pack of wolves, tracking down missing people, and constructing some traps for some of the farmers. 

“She’s so bloody annoying!” Kallian cried out when yet again they had to see Marian and Bethany Hawke collecting some form of payment. “How in the void does she even know how to make poisons like that?” Kallian had declined that request from the barkeep, who said he just wanted to try and keep his land safe. That smug look on Hawke’s face when she waltzed in and said she already had several vials made Kallian want to tear out her hair. 

“Could have turned her in to the templars,” Alistair joked. “They would have taken care of that problem for you.”

Kallian glared at him. “At least my armour is supposed to be done. We can get out of here.” They had been stuck waiting for several days, and at this point had all the supplies they could need in their foreseeable future before getting to Redcliffe, so it was only Kallian that was holding them back now. 

Leliana said she’d forgotten something at the Chantry, so she headed back there while Kallian picked up her new armour. The smith insisted she try it on, and it fit wonderfully. The leather was supple where she needed to bend, yet firm across the chest and shoulders. Riveted strips of leather made up the protection against her abdomen, with enough give so she could move, but sturdy enough that a slice of a blade wouldn’t tear it apart.

“No more arrows to the chest from here on out,” Alistair playfully bumped her shoulder.

“Try my best,” Kallian said with a smile turning up one corner of her lips.

They got to the highway before Leliana, even after packing up the tents and their few belongings. Kallian’s pack was weighed down with a small whetstone and an iron pot, which were just the heavier items among what she had picked up. A bar of soap and some extra clothes that were a bit big for her also made it into her bag. Kallian was used to hand-me-downs and patched up clothing. She also had a needle and thread that she was sure could hem the pants up a little.

“Sorry!” She heard the telltale Orlesian accent. “We’re ready to go now too!”

“We?” Said Alistair.

“Andraste’s bloody tits. She did not,” Kallian cursed.

“She did,” Alistair groaned.

Loping with big strides behind Leliana was the maker forsaken qunari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Thank you to my beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) as always for she is a wonderful help and a great friend - check out her Zevwarden fic [Wayward Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849416/chapters/24088878) if you haven't!
> 
> And for those of you who are here and waiting for a certain assassin - I would start getting excited for the next chapter ;)


	8. Ambush on the Road

Flashing wide eyes at Alistair, Kallian pulled Leliana aside while everyone else walked on ahead, including the qunari.

“I said we aren’t bringing the bloody murderous qunari,” Kallian hissed.

Leliana squared her shoulders. “It wasn’t right to leave him to die like that. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption.”

Kallian wasn’t so sure all people could be redeemed, or even deserved that chance. It sickened her to wonder just for a fleeting moment if Leliana would offer the same chance to the humans who had raped and killed elves of her alienage. Once caught and caged, people would say anything if they thought it meant they would be freed. “He’s dangerous. We don’t know anything about him except that he killed a family. We can’t trust him.”

“His name is Sten,” Leliana said as if naming him would suddenly erase the wariness. “You should talk to him. He regrets his actions and wants to atone. Fighting the Blight is a worthy cause for him to do so.” Her brow creased. “If you really don’t want him around after that... I - I understand.”

“What difference does it make if I talk to him or not? He’s not fucking staying.”

Alistair’s sudden warning of ‘darkspawn ahead’ spurred everybody to action as soon as they got near the imperial highway. The small group was of no big concern, but the wagon and two dwarves they were attacking made Kallian drop the argument as they all ran to their aid.

The mix of genlocks and hurlocks immediately swarmed Alistair, and Kallian sprinted up behind them, in a constant flurry of motion. A dagger jammed into a back followed by her other slicing at ankles. Those that she only injured made the mistake of turning to go after her, letting Alistair lop their heads off one by one.

A trail of ice spread from Morrigan out in front of her, while Leliana focused on the couple ranged attackers rather than risk hitting one of their own people in the melee.

“Help! My boy!” One of the dwarves cried out.

To nearly everyone’s surprise, Sten came storming over, cold and collected. With just his large hands, he came up behind the hurlock - towering over even that tall darkspawn - and snapped its neck. As a genlock rushed at the giant, Sten put both hands on the darkspawn’s shield and pulled, yanking it from its grasp and then slamming the shield down on its head.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The dwarf cried.

Maker! Sten’s biceps were the size of Kallian’s head - he hadn’t even needed a sword to take out that darkspawn.

Leliana seized the opportunity. “He was very good at killing the darkspawn just then, was he not?” She casually walked amongst the corpses, retrieving what arrows weren’t broken or lodged too deeply to be recovered.

He was an exceptional fighter, which gave Kallian pause rather than confirmation that he should be coming along. “Just means he could be just as quick at killing us,” she muttered.

“I will not go where I am not wanted,” Sten’s deep voice sounded from above.

Jerking her head to the left, Kallian had to crane her neck to look up at the qunari’s face. “So if I decided we don’t need your help, you would go?”

“I wish only to seek my atonement. If fighting the Blight and dying in battle is the way to accomplish this, I will do so. If that is not to be the case, I will leave,” said Sten.

“You want to die?” Those weren’t the words of someone trying to connive their way out of a shit situation.

“Better to die bravely facing the enemy head on, than starving in a cage. It would be a death befitting my people.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before pursing her lips. “Fine. You better find yourself a weapon, though.” It wasn’t as if she had any lying around to spare.

He scouted around until he found a big two-handed sword off a dead hurlock. Good enough.

Alistair waved her over and she met the dwarves, Bodahn Feddic and his son Sandal. They appreciated the help so much, they agreed to travel along behind their party as long as they could. In exchange for the wardens’ protection, the dwarves would provide their wares and space on the wagon for their more cumbersome belongings.

Their tents and bedrolls were at least off of their backs, their rucksacks tucked in among Bodahn's wares, and it made everyone’s steps feel that much lighter. Not to mention, no more dropping all their shit to go fight. Kallian had a feeling that would be happening more and more whether it was darkspawn or bandits.

For all their shared caution on the road, they managed to make it all the way into the evening and make camp without any problems. Sten proclaimed his preference to make his bed by the fire, so Alistair was saved from trying to courteously offer space in his tent.  And now that they were outside the realm of Flemeth’s magical protection from darkspawn, and well away from town, Alistair suggested they start keeping watch at night, in three shifts.

So Kallian would get even less sleep. Morrigan had made enough comments on her reluctance to rise in the morning that Kallian was trying very hard not to give the witch the satisfaction anymore. Alistair was making that difficult with his urging to try and get to Redcliffe faster and earlier and now adding watch shifts to the mix.

Needless to say, she didn’t volunteer to keep watch that night.

 

_Roaring, buzzing, humming. The chant rose up in Kallian’s mind, heart and veins. The need to kill, urging onward - a thirst to conquer. A dragon of such a dark purple it appeared an iridescent black, roared and a cacophony of guttural noises heeded its call._

 

“Gah!” Kallian sat up, flailing in the blankets that trapped her, clawing out of them as her limbs trembled. Sweat beaded on her forehead and soaked her back. Finally she was freed of the warm confines and sat panting, eyes wildly searching the tent as if the darkspawn of her dreams were about to slash the canvas apart.

Leliana was staring at her as if she was the crazy one - that was rich. “Are you okay?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“I’m gonna - I need to go drink some water.” Needed it splashed over her face, more like.

“Did you have a darkspawn dream?” Alistair asked when she crawled out of the tent.

“Yeah,” Kallian’s noticed how her voice sounded shaken. “It just... seemed so real. I’m fine though.”

“They... start to happen more and more. It’s us tapping into that sort of hive mind, listening in on the archdemon’s orders. They say those who join during the Blight have it worse.” He handed Kallian a canteen. “Lucky us.”

“So that’s just... normal then? I get to be tormented by that shit? Andraste’s tits, thanks for the warning. What other things aren’t you telling me?”

He looked away and shuffled his feet. She had only meant it as a joke.

“What else haven’t you told me, Alistair?” She asked quietly.

“Sit with me?”

She did, trying not to be impatient as he took a while to formulate the words. It didn’t take long for her to burst. “Maker, what the fuck do you have to tell me? Is it that bad?”

“Depends how you look at it I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing: you’ve got thirty years to live, give or take,” Alistair said in a rush.

Kallian’s stomach sank. “Thirty...” Not even a full lifespan. And she was already so young. “Why? How?” She had a very good feeling it was that fucking taint in her blood. The price of the Joining.

Alistair picked up a stick off the ground, snapping bits off and throwing them into the fire. “The corruption catches up with us eventually. Whatever magic or... something that holds it back, stops working after so many years with it inside us. It’s called... the Calling.”

“What does that mean? Wouldn’t wardens have ... I dunno, tried to figure out how to stop it? Wardens have been around hundreds of years, surely someone should have figured it out!”

“You can’t just stop the Calling, Kallian.” Alistair sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you earlier. It’s... a lot. I’m sorry. There isn’t a cure. Rather than letting the taint corrupt us into ghouls, wardens go down to the Deep Roads, fighting darkspawn to the death.”

“That’s... fucked.” Until now, Kallian hadn’t really considered her own mortality. She always thought herself capable of getting out of any situation. Now Alistair had just put a countdown on her life. And no one knew until it was too late. “The Joining isn’t what’s so secret, is it? It’s what the Joining _does_.” How not everyone survived it, how even those who did still had their heads on a chopping block down the line. “It’s fucked.”

“Would you have joined? If you knew?”

“I was conscripted. Didn’t matter anyway.” She might already be dead if it weren’t for Duncan. But she might have died at the Joining too. How many times had she been brushed by the chance of death already? “I would have been hanged without Duncan.” She shrugged a shoulder, her voice monotone, “I guess thirty years is better than that.” But it wasn’t better than having her whole life stretched out in front of her.

“Maybe that’s better, that you don’t have to wonder, I mean. Getting to live, even if only another thirty years is definitely better than being already dead.”

Kallian had been planning on running away from Denerim before the guards came. She could have packed up her shit and hopped the wall, been on her way before anyone realized she had ditched the wardens. But then she would still just be an elf, a thief, and a murderer on the run. She wasn’t just conscripted, she _wanted_ to be a Grey Warden, even before that moment. If she had known, would she still have gone with Duncan? Thirty years free compared to a lifetime away from her friends and family. But she was already stolen from her life _now_ , what difference would it have made?

She laughed with dry irony. “Could have gone on the run, been an outlawed criminal. Instead I get to be, ah yeah, an outlawed criminal. Cheers.”

Alistair’s expression hardened. “There is that. I’m sorry you had to join among all this.” He spread his arms out, then flopped them back on his knees. “You haven’t gotten to experience any of the good things about being a warden.”

“I dunno, don’t have to hide my weapons up my skirt, I get to fight shit, rub everyone’s noses in it when they realize how much they need us. Better than what I would have been in an alienage - or dungeon. Maybe even be a fucking hero like uh, what was it you said, Garahel, yeah?”

That got a smile from Alistair. “Better for you to be the leader then, so you can get all the credit, be the next elf hero - heroine?”

The next elf hero. Could she be? All Kallian has been focusing on was getting from one spot to the next, surviving each new bit of fuckery thrown at them. She laid back, pillowing her head in hands. “That would be hilarious. Nobody wants a thief as a hero. It’d piss off every fucking noble shem.” A grin poked dimples in her cheeks. “Better make sure we get our army then.” The idea was almost too ridiculous - Kallian was no general with years of experience. “Kallian the… Clever. And Alistair the Amazing?”

He snickered, also joining her in relaxing back on the grass. “That makes me sound like some sort of street performer.” He poked her arm. “More like Kallian the Klepto.”

“The what?”

“Someone who steals a lot, like you can’t help yourself.”

“I _can_ help myself!”

“Exactly,” Alistair broke out into laughter. “All you do is help yourself. Like you have sticky fingers.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching out to smack his arm again. “I’ll take away that pillow my stolen silver got for you.”

“You wouldn’t!” He rubbed his arm in mock hurt. “Violent, you are. Glad you can direct that to fighting the darkspawn and not me. As for me, heroes and all that, stopping this Blight, even, I’d say it’s loads better than being a templar.”

“If you never even wanted to be a templar, why join?” Kallian asked.

“Join implies I had a choice,” Alistair said with surprising bitterness. “No, I was _sent_.”

“The Arl wanted you to?” He had confessed the very Arl Eamon they were seeking help from had actually had a hand in raising him.

“The Arl?” Alistair scoffed. “Who said anything about an Arl. I was raised in the kennel, great slobbering dogs all over me.”

“Even the dogs couldn’t stand your smell then, that why they kicked you out?”

“No, I think it was that I kept stealing all of their food for myself,” he mused.

She scoffed, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Tell me the truth, Chantry boy.”

He caught her wrist before she could flick him in the ear. “Fine. I’m a bastard.”

Kallian’s eyes immediately lit up, ten different jokes coming to the tip of her tongue.

His eyes narrowed at the mischief he saw brewing. “The _fatherless_ kind, before you go opening your mouth. I’m told my mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe who passed away not long after I was born, and the Arl looked out for me, but off I went to the templars when I was of age.”

“Is the Arl-”

“Eamon is _not_ my father. I know who he is, and that he died just like my mother. It doesn’t matter anyhow.”

“Are you sure?” Kallian had to ask. “Why else would he decide to take you in? Maybe he felt like he owed it to you?”

“Trust me. He isn’t. You’ll see when we get there, he looks nothing like me.”

“We’ll see.” Kallian was giving him an impish smirk.

Neither of them touched on the underlying melancholy of lost parents, parents Alistair never got to know.

But Alistair didn’t even get to answering her original question, she realized. “So why did the Arl send you?”

He sighed, looking away. “He married an Orlesian woman, the Arlessa hated the rumours of me possibly being the Arl’s illegitimate son. She’s the one who pushed for it. She couldn’t stand me.”

“Plenty of orphans had it worse. At least you were looked after though, right?” She imagined a castle like the Arl of Denerim’s, large with roaming hallways and more rooms than she could possibly see them having a use for. The beds alone were huge.

“I was looked after but don’t get ideas about me being raised as his son or anything. I didn’t even live with him. He just, made sure I was clothed and fed, checked in on me.”

Kallian frowned. “Well, I mean that’s not so generous of him then, is it? The very least.” She didn’t get why he would be so thankful to the man for that, when he had so much more that he _could_ have given. “The man’s got a castle and he can’t even give you a room?”

“There were the rumours, you know. It wouldn’t be proper to take in an orphan with that over his head. It would just confirm to everyone else the rumours were true - which they _aren’t_.” He gave Kallian a stern look.

She just shook her head. To her it only confirmed the one thing she knew was true. “Fucking noble shems.” Kallian almost couldn’t wait to meet the man, to hear how charitable he thought he was being so she could sneer.

When Morrigan came to relieve Alistair of his watch post, Kallian slipped into her tent as well, and flopped back down on her bedroll. She only hoped these fucking darkspawn dreams wouldn’t ruin the rest of her night’s sleep.

“Is everything all right?” Leliana mumbled.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry I woke you.” She rolled over, facing the canvas wall. “Probably happen a lot more. Bloody warden darkspawn thing,” she murmured with sleep creeping over her again already.

“The… nightmare?”

No point in avoiding it. Leliana was going to be stuck in the same tent as her after all. “Yeah. Seeing the darkspawn, hearing their… ‘talking’ I guess?”

“So you can know where they’re going?”

“Tch,” Kallian rolled over again. “Not even useful. ‘Slike a bunch of bees buzzing and can’t understand any of it. Pointless shit to deal with.”

“The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens,” Leliana quoted, propping herself up on an elbow. “There are many burdens to bear, it seems.”

“Yeah.” Apparently so.

“And…” Leliana’s eyes flicked downwards before meeting Kallian’s again. “I should not have added to that by going against your wishes. You have enough to worry about. I see that now.”

Sten. “Oh.” It wasn’t that often Kallian was at a loss for words. How sad was it that being treated like an equal was one of those moments? “Thanks. I um, appreciate that.”

Leliana giggled sleepily. “I’ll hold onto that. Get some sleep - you won’t be thanking anybody when we get on the road again in the morning.”

“I’m not that bad,” Kallian muttered into her pillow, eyes closing.

* * *

 

She was that bad.

Everyone in camp was frustrated by their so-called leader when she was even slower to rise every morning. Interrupted sleep and the expectation to always be moving as soon as the sun was up made it rather hard for Kallian to keep up with such demands.

She didn’t want light conversation, or talk of any kind in the morning. A sullen little pout rested on her lips as she frowned at the road beneath her feet. Fucking early mornings and somehow she was  a bad leader for not jumping up and being the one to call everyone else to action. So today she marched in front of everyone, _leading_. Only Fang had the honour of walking by her side, since he couldn’t annoy her by speaking.

When the sun was high in the sky, Kallian stopped in the middle of the road for the others to catch up.

The pull in her blood was so strong, so resolute and familiar in the way a bug skitters across skin, leaving goosebumps and shuddering in its wake. That was the taint, the blackened filth that ran through her own veins surely as it did in the darkspawn. That sickening pull, tingling at the base of her neck was the corruption linking her to the horde. Kallian _knew_. “There’s darkspawn nearby,” she said.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s too many. I think we can get around them,” Alistair offered. “Veer off here, and we wouldn’t even have to detour that far.”

“What’s the point in being a warden if we’re just going to avoid every darkspawn we come across? The point is that we have a warning so we’re prepared, not so we can go fucking hide, right?”

Alistair bristled. “I’m just trying to get us to the Arl faster, to get our army faster. Isn’t that what you said last night? Usually works better if we arrive alive.”

“I agree with the elf,” Sten surprised Kallian by speaking in her favour. “Your job is to fight the darkspawn, not run.”

Kallian raised her eyebrows and gave a little shrug of her shoulder. “Sten agrees.” As if the qunari’s opinion settled the matter. “Come on, we can take them,” she said, and kept heading down the dirt road.

The tricky part was ambushing the darkspawn before the darkspawn themselves clued in that wardens were upon them. Maybe they had a hard time telling the difference, because Kallian, Leliana, and Morrigan were able to skirt along the treeline, and Alistair, with Fang at his side, and Sten started charging the group head on just as a darkspawn scout took notice.

With Leliana and Morrigan providing cover, and the big warriors of the group drawing the focus of the darkspawn, Kallian could keep low and backstab the unaware creatures. She flitted so quickly from slashing legs, to swiping at exposed necks, that she got caught in one of Morrigan’s spells, ice climbing halfway up her leg before the spell ceased. “What the fuck!? Gah-” She had to duck as another bolt of magic flew past her. A sword grazed her leather-clad thigh as the hurlock went down.

“Just stay down!” Morrigan’s irritation rang clear even as she was running out from cover to stand by Kallian. Thin dark brows drew together as she murmured for a moment, and then in a wave of light, she took the shape of a giant spider.

“Maker!” Alistair shouted, jumping backwards.

Spurts of sticky web shot out of the spider, hairy legs expertly wrapping up the trapped darkspawn, pincers clicking as it - she? - spun layers of webbing.

In another flash, she was standing in human form, clicking her tongue in nearly the same irritated mannerism she had as a spider.“If you did not move around so much-”

“I’m avoiding getting fucking stabbed!” Kallian shouted indignantly as she strained against the block of ice. “Lucky I didn’t end up wrapped in your web too!”

“Stop squirming.” Morrigan’s hands turned warm, then hot and the ice turned to cold water, soaking Kallian’s leg.

Sten lopped a head off as if he was cutting through butter, and now freed, Kallian and Alistair quickly ended the lives of the trapped ‘spawn. Her lovely new armour was splattered with black blood at the end of it all and she tossed a rag at Alistair to wipe the ichor from his face.

“Nobody got any injuries right?” She now realized while it was no big deal for her and Alistair, the others in their group shared no such immunity.

“A little help here!” Leliana called.

Both wardens paled, imagining the worst - tainted.

Leliana was pinned beneath a hulking hurlock - an alpha, Alistair had described it as.

Alistair helped roll it off and Kallian knelt in front of Leliana. “Did it get you? You didn’t get blood in your mouth or -” she was already tugging at Leliana’s leathers, “or cuts…”

Leliana grunted, a hand clutched over he shoulder and blood seeping between her fingers. “Got pinned.” She lifted a trembling palm off of the wound briefly, only to wince and cover it again. “An arrow.”

Kallian paled and sucked a breath between her teeth.

“It didn’t go through. Mmm-” She winced. “just a bit of a hole in my shoulder.”

“Okay don’t move,” said Alistair. He pulled out some bandages and a tin of elfroot paste. “I think we’ll need to stitch this closed.”

Kallian helped undo the buckles to pull off the leather from Leliana’s shoulders. “Maker, was it a crossbow?”  

Leliana nodded. A hole was the right word for it with the bolt dislodged.

“Here, let me, Alistair.” Kallian held out a hand for the supplies, and wiped both hands off on a cloth before pulling needle and thread out from the kit. She hadn’t done it often, but she was good with her hands. “Er - hold your breath?”

Leliana huffed, a smile twitching on her lips. “I have had wounds sewn closed before, Kallian.”

“Oh.” She nodded, acting nonchalant. Kallian pinched the skin close together with steady hands, passing needle and thread through in fine stitches, just like it was a torn hole in a shirt. She was leaned in close, trying to be as gentle as possible while pulling the wound closed. “What did you do before the Chantry?” Kallian asked.

“I-” Leliana faltered.

Kallian stopped suturing.

“No, I’m okay. You can keep going.” She smiled, looking down, rather than at what Kallian was doing. “I was a minstrel in Orlais. The parties were wonderful. The dancing, the music… the shoes.”

“And do all minstrels fight like you?”

“One can learn many skills while travelling, yes? Do all elves fight like you?” Leliana stiffened and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I only meant, that is- Where did you learn?”

Kallian’s eyes brightened. “Not from a bunch of Orlesian parties, that’s for sure. My mother taught me everything. She was amazing.” With a swipe of her finger, she rubbed a glob of the elfroot concoction along the stitches. “Why come to Ferelden then?”

“She must have been.” Leliana didn’t comment on the past tense, nor answer the question, but reached for the roll of bandages.

“I’ve got it.” Kallian took it from her, winding the length up and over her shoulder and pinning the end.

“A friend taught me,” Leliana offered. “I loved Orlais, but hm, I don’t know, perhaps I always thought I would return. I was born here, so I still see Ferelden as my home. And I want to help protect my home.” She smiled again, pretty blue eyes sparkling. “Thank you,” she rotated her shoulder with a bit of a wince, “you have gentle hands.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” Kallian offered her a hand and pulled her up. “Will you still be able to use a bow?”

“I think we shall be fine. I draw with my right.”

“Just take it easy,” Alistair advised. “And make sure you don’t get darkspawn blood in any injuries or in your mouth or - just tell Kal or me if anything happens.”

Kallian’s stomach sank. Any of them would be at risk of being tainted. “And what are we gonna do if something… happens?” she whispered.

Alistair sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But this is why I want to avoid darkspawn where we can. They aren’t wardens.”

“Neither are any of the armies we recruit,” she sighed. “But it’s different if it’s - well it would feel like our fault. I dunno…. We can’t really avoid darkspawn forever either. Blight remember?”

He laughed wryly. “The dreams won’t exactly let me forget it. Rude of them, don’t you think? We are just trying to kill every last one of them and they pester us with all their screaming while we sleep.”

She snorted and laughed loudly. “Who do they think they are? Fucking pains in our bloody arses.”

They got back onto the path, not wanting to lose anymore time now that the fight was over.

Kallian paused and pressed a palm to a cut along her knee. It wasn’t deep but it stung like a bitch. “ _Darkspawn_ , I expect. Apparently I have to watch my back for attacks from our own mage. Andraste’s tits.”

“This is what happens when you leave saarebas unleashed,” Sten appeared to agree with Kallian, though she didn’t get what he meant.

Morrigan held her head high, but her feathers were clearly ruffled, what with the red surging up her cheeks. “'Tis your own fault for recklessly intruding on my line of fire.”

“Yeah, I was in _your_ way. Aim better.” Kallian didn’t try to hold in her laughter, loving how it irritated the witch even more.

Leliana cracked a smile, joining in. “Perhaps I could help you out with your aim. It does take much practice with the bow, of course.”

“I do not require help!” Morrigan said, and walked faster in the wake of the other three snickering at her.

But Kallian was the one left walking with a soaking wet sock from melted ice, squelching in her boot with every step and making her toes cold. They probably had half a day left of marching before they made camp once more. Fucking Morrigan.

“Help! Somebody!” A woman with tears streaking her face ran towards them.

“More darkspawn?” Leliana asked.

Alistair and Kallian shook their heads simultaneously - none on the road from what they could tell.

“We were attacked! Bandits! Please, you have to help us!” The woman cried out as she got closer, stopping and bending over at the waist as her chest heaved.

“Lead the way,” Kallian said. It was rather thrilling to be called upon for help.

The woman’s steps slowed as they got closer to an overturned wagon. She sauntered up to a shorter blond man - an elf - and he nodded sharply. “The Grey Wardens die here,” he snarled.

“Move!” Leliana shouted as a tree toppled over directly above them.

Kallian had to dive and roll, branches scraping her legs as she barely got out of the way.

More men came pouring out from bushes, and archers lined the cliff where the tree came crashing down from. The woman, the _lure_ , pulled a staff from the ground and cast a shimmering barrier over herself.

The elf’s eyes glinted and with a flick of his wrist, a throwing knife came hurtling towards Kallian while she was still on her knees. Alistair was in front of her, catching the blade on his shield and helping her get to cover.

“What the fuck is this?” she growled, now unsheathing her weapons.

“A bloody ambush,” said Alistair. He charged at the elf, but he threw something to the ground, and a wave of thick smoke billowed up, enveloping him and Alistair.

Kallian cursed, scanning the battlefield for the elf, until she saw a flash of his blond hair when he gracefully scaled up a tree.

“I can climb too, you bastard,” she muttered.

Instead of climbing the one he was up though, she scaled a big oak further back, risking a fall a couple times as she leaped onto other branches that creaked beneath her weight.

The falling of leaves and shuddering of branches alerted the other elf to her presence before she could make it over, and he dropped to the ground with a rather amused sounding cackle.

Kallian ducked behind another tree as he threw another small knife in her direction, then chased him down, forcing him to stop and defend himself before ending up with her dagger plunged into his spine.

The blond elf’s blade matched Kallian’s blow for blow. He was skilled, quick, and he was _really_ good. In fact, so good that it scared her to see the number of times his eyes perfectly followed her movements, easily able to predict where her next strike would land, yet barely made the effort to dodge beyond the most minimal of movements. This elf, with the black tattoos sweeping down his face, was _dangerous_.

Kallian knew she had left openings by accident. One moment she had struck out and he caught her blade, leaving her arm outstretched, armpit exposed. His eyes shifted down then locked with hers as he simply spun away from her other blade arcing towards him. She _knew_ he saw the opening. Why didn’t he take it? Was he simply playing with her as a cat would a mouse? Was this all a game; to see how long it took before she gave out? That cackling laughter echoed in her ears.

She retreated a few steps and risked a glance to check on her companions. Morrigan was casting, Leliana beside her firing arrows at the paralyzed men. Kallian snapped her head back, barely missing the edge of a dagger hurtling towards her. He flipped his dagger handle down at the last second, coming down on her left wrist with a crack. Her weapon fell and he kicked it away.

Kallian had to take several steps back again as the elf’s swings became more aggressive, even faster paced, as if urging her to focus on the fight, on him, on tracking his grim golden eyes, for her to fight harder in return. They exchanged several vicious strikes, catching a abbed elbow in the ribs for her, and a knuckled backhand to his face. Kallian feinted left then stabbed towards the right viciously. He crossed his dagger and sword to catch hers and she kicked him hard in the side, forcing him away.

Leaping back at him before he had a chance to recover, she stabbed him in the left shoulder.

He growled, spitting a curse she didn’t recognize, then grit his teeth and stabbed at her left side - her weaponless side.

“Fuck!” Kallian shouted, and caught the blade in a panicked hand, her fist meeting his at the hilt as it slid along her hand, slicing both fingers and palm.

His eyes widened and eyebrows shot up his forehead. The dagger at her side slid a tiny sliver more and she groaned.

She grunted, twisting the blade in his shoulder, expecting him to cry out, but he didn’t. Then his hand seemed to slip.

With a grunt and a heave, Kallian pulled her dagger from his shoulder and swung at his head.

His dark amber eyes met hers and she saw no fear, only relief. Kallian saw his acceptance. She slammed the pommel of her dagger to his temple, rather than the point, causing him to crumple to the ground.

She chewed her lower lip for a beat, staring at his form in the dirt. He wore unremarkable leathers, a skirt and stiff cuirass that showed off more of the same dark ink that marked his face along his exposed thighs and upper arms. Who were these people?

There were lengths of rope among the toppled crates and she dragged the elf over to the same tree he had dropped out of, wrapping it several times around so he was pinned to the tree with his arms pressed to his sides.

“I could use some healing. Potion? Anybody?” Alistair finally appeared, gripping his upper arm where a sword got him and Fang bounded gleefully beside him, blood covering his maw. “Hold on, why is he alive?”

Alistair nudged the unconscious elf’s leg with his foot as he begrudgingly let Morrigan patch him up. She did have the supply of potions and herbal remedies after all.

Kallian panted, her fist clenched as blood dripped from it, the rest of her body catching up, slowly alerting her to aching throbs as adrenaline faded. “He’s alive because he knew who we were. He was here for the wardens. What if there are others?” Would anybody believe her if she told them about how he seemed to lose the fight in himself?

The elf stirred as she spoke, groaning and straining at his bonds. He cursed in a language Kallian didn’t recognize. A foreigner? His tanned complexion had her guessing he was from somewhere further north, but that was the best she could gather.

Bleary amber eyes blinked slowly before landing on Kallian in shock. “I rather thought I would wake up dead,” his warm voice and accent carried to her and her companions. “It appears I am alive, and tied up too, how generous,” he said.

“We needed answers.” Kallian tried to put a hard edge on her voice, though wasn’t sure she succeeded when the elf’s face lit up and his lips turned up in a half smirk.

“Well let me save you the trouble. My name is Zevran, or Zev to my friends. I am an Antivan Crow, hired to kill the last of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens. Though, clearly I have failed,” he spoke lightly, even though sweat was dotting his skin and blood was seeping down his arm from the stab wound.

“Antivan Crows?” Kallian turned to her companions in confusion.

“An assassin order from Antiva. Known to be the best in the business. Though now I am not so sure.” Leliana raised an eyebrow at the assassin still on the ground.

The words turned over and over again in her mind. Hired to kill? It had to be Loghain. But was he desperate enough to pay someone to have her and Alistair killed?

“So you got paid to kill us? By who?” For a professional, his ambush was rather pathetic. The tree falling alone gave them ample warning to prepare, then the obvious hand signals, the strangely held back fight…

Zevran laughed, “Me? Paid? No no no, my friend. _I_ was not paid. The _Crows_ were - by a fellow, mmm... Loghain, yes that’s who it was. I would receive a portion upon completion of my task. Though now that I have failed, my life is forfeit.”

“What’s to stop him for turning around and stabbing us in the backs if we let him go?” Alistair shouted hotly, walking over with his arm mostly healed. He pulled his anger in when he saw Kallian. “Maker’s breath, Kal. What did he do to you?” Wordlessly he held a hand out for bandages.

“There’s a reason you aren’t supposed to grab the pointy end of a blade,” Kallian said through gritted teeth as she forced herself to uncurl her trembling fingers.

“A very daring move I must say,” Zevran offered.

Alistair glared at him. “Shut it, you.”

She allowed Alistair to wrap up her hand while she took a swig of the bitter healing potion, feeling wounds knit together. Facing the assassin, Kallian resumed her questioning sans panting through every word. “He has a point. Why wouldn’t you kill us once you’re free?”

“He would. He’s an assassin. It’s what they do,” said Alistair. “Same with _lying_.”

Zevran’s eyes narrowed at the large human. “Funny thing about the Crows - they never really give you much choice.” His eyes found Kallian’s again. “I was bought as a mere child for a fairly decent price, or so I’m told. Is it such a problem that I might not be as loyal to my _buyers_ , to those that would see me dead for failing my task?”

“What are you getting at? If you didn’t like the Crows why haven’t you left before now? Why would anyone stay? Bit convenient you wanna leave now.” Kallian was cautious, but felt for him. He was painting a picture of a life not chosen by him, but _for_ him. Being a city elf herself, it was not as if she’d ever had a lot of options. Particularly if _bought_ , she nearly blanched. As good as slavery wasn’t it?  
He tilted his head, and Kallian got the impression he’d be the sort to talk with his hands if they weren’t tied up. “As for staying, well, some like the little power it affords, but the power is an illusion. Only the Masters truly hold the reins. That is the trick isn’t it? Sign up with someone more powerful so the Crows feel they cannot touch you. You are the fabled Grey Wardens, are you not?”

Kallian paused for a moment. “Yeah… but aren’t you the one who signed up to kill us? Why would other Crows think we’re untouchable?” He appeared so ready for defeat too.

“Perhaps I was too cocky. All the fool I, yes? Clearly you are not a group to be trifled with,” Zevran answered easily.

“I think he could make a fine addition to our group,” Leliana was of course the first one to speak on his behalf. “An assassin brings many skills to the table.”

“And many knives to the back,” Alistair retorted.

Kallian’s heart pushed her to Zevran’s defence. “Alistair! He’s more than just an elf with a blade. He just said he doesn’t even want to be a part of the Crows. We could be a way out, couldn’t we?”

“What? He tells you a sob story and suddenly you trust him?” said Alistair.

Alistair wasn’t an elf. What he called a sob story was pretty much life for them. Children she grew up with were now no more than whores at the local brothels, selling their bodies for coin. Zevran… was also bought, for his blades rather than body.

“That’s not it at all! Just… I just. Let him speak, okay?” Trust was a heavy word.

Alistair grumbled but pursed his lips, no more offered on the subject.

“My thought is this: I owe you my life, in return for you sparing me, I pledge an oath of loyalty to you, and I get to leave my life with the Crows behind, as well as keep on living.”

“Just like that? You switch sides?” Kallian asked.

“It’s not as if I have anything against _you_ personally. You are not the ones claiming my life is forfeit after all. I help you kill darkspawn, I prove myself useful, everybody wins, yes?”

“Until we wake up with a knife in our back,” Alistair chimed in.

“You really would leave the Crows behind, just like that?” Kallian pressed.  
  
Something dark passed behind Zevran’s eyes but when he next met her eyes, they were clear again, and his seemingly characteristic smirk was plastered back on his face. “It is not as if the Crows have done so much for me. Some coin here and there, yes, and women - or men - when the time was right, but there is no shortage of women here are there? If it is not a blade you need, I’m told I make an excellent bed-warmer.” Zevran’s glance passed from Kallian to Leliana and then landed on Morrigan, sweeping along all her pale exposed skin.

“If you even think about it, elf, you will find yourself a toad,” Morrigan’s ice-cold glare pinned Zevran’s wandering eyes in place.  
  
He chuckled good naturedly, “I see. I can also pick locks, make poisons? And… there are others who might not find me so repulsive. ”

Kallian flushed tomato red when his eyes slid back to her at the last comment. Had he caught her appreciative glance? So what, he was cocky, knew he was good looking enough, it wasn’t strange to notice.  
  
“That’s besides the point,” she rolled her eyes, hating her face for being so quick to blush. “I guess you can come with us, Zevran.”

“The assassin? Really? The _assassin_ ,” Alistair emphasized as if Kallian had somehow forgotten.

“Yup. The assassin.”  
  
“The assassin is right here, you know,” Zevran spoke playfully despite the tension rolling off Alistair’s hunched shoulders.

“I don’t know why I let you lead, you know.”

“Yes… _let_ me lead. You _made_ me leader so sorry, Alistair, you have to trust me on this decision.” Kallian couldn’t stop the venom from leaking into her voice.

“Fine, but you’re mad if you think we aren’t at least tying him up at night,” Alistair acquiesced.

“A little rope goes a long way. A perfectly rational decision - I would expect no less,” Zevran chirped, strangely agreeable to the inevitable manhandling.

She quirked a single eyebrow at the Antivan who flashed an innocent grin her way. It didn’t matter what Alistair said. Kallian had _seen_ something. He was doing a job out of necessity. Kallian had killed numerous guards and a noble, yet Duncan’s hand extended towards her. She could do that for Zevran.

But she hadn’t murdered for pay, and that did make enough of a difference to make Kallian wary.

“Well? Isn’t there some oath for you to swear or some shit?” she said, and sliced the ropes from him.

Zevran bowed to her and looked her dead in the eye, “Until such time as you choose to release me, I am your man, without reservation. This I swear.” In spite of his injury, he looked up, grinning with a flash of white teeth.

Kallian’s face felt hot and she turned away. “Morrigan, can you give him some stuff to deal with that?”

She hurried up to Alistair’s side, hoping to appease his anger. “We’ll take away his weapons when we camp,” she whispered low enough so the other elf wouldn’t pick up her voice. “And we can tie his hands too, I guess. If he suddenly decides fighting darkspawn all the time doesn’t exactly compare to the Crow life.”

That was _her_ life now, fighting darkspawn all the time. Thirty years of it. She swallowed thickly. _If I even make it that far_. The Blight could end her and Alistair both, long before that. An assassin could too. She threaded blood streaked fingers into her hair, uncaring of the messy tangles she left in her wake. Yes, _why_ _not_ make it a game to keep flirting with death?

“Sure, bring the assassin. Who wants to take bets on who he kills first?” Alistair whispered. “Or bets on who _kills_ first. The qunari or the elf?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) as always and thank you to everyone reading thus far! I hope you enjoyed the introduction of Zevran <3


	9. Assassin in the Camp

Zevran was forced to walk ahead of their party because no one was ready to trust the armed assassin at their backs so soon after recruiting him. And he did remain armed because despite the bulk of the horde still gathering in the Korcari wilds, smatterings of darkspawn seemed to have branched off. 

Kallian felt responsible for taking in the assassin-turned-(probably?)-ally and stayed a step behind him. With so many others armed and with their eyes trained on him, she didn’t think now would be the time to try anything. She held onto much hope that he wouldn’t try anything at all, that he didn’t want to. If what he said of the Crows was true, then perhaps she really had been able to offer mercy at a time he needed it most. His flippant and airy responses made it so hard to get a read on him, though.

Sibilant voices had her ears perking up. 

“You’re on board with this?” Of course it was Alistair.

“Yes,” Leliana replied, her voice also low. “We all should give him a chance to choose the right side, don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t that also give him a chance to choose to kill us? What about Sten? She didn’t want him with us because he killed  _ other _ people. Now she’ll take in the elf that tries to kill us?  _ Specifically _ us?” Alistair’s hissed whispers carried easily to Kallian’s ears.

Her face went red. It was different! Obviously Zevran had no personal vendetta against them, despite targeting them, but it was for pay, not… personal reasons. 

“Do you not trust her judgment?” 

_ Thank you, Leliana _ .

“I-don’t give me that look - I  _ do _ . Just. He’s an elf isn’t he? You don’t think maybe she’s biased?”

Kallian scoffed quietly.

“Wouldn’t you be? Her people do not lead an easy life,” said Leliana. 

“No, I imagine not. So you think the assassin was telling the truth?”

“I believe Zevran was more honest than we have any right to have expected from him. I do wonder… why?”

Without realizing, Kallian had begun slowing her steps as she eavesdropped. 

“Careful now, warden,” Zevran slowed too, “or they will realize you are listening in, and seeing as we can both hear their whispered gossip, I imagine keeping our excellent hearing a secret is something you aim to continue.”

“It’s useful enough,” she said.

“Oh do not think I of all people am judging, no, no! I do however, see your large warden friend will be harder to win over than you,” he chuckled.

A thread of alarm pulled at Kallian’s spine. “You haven’t won over me either.” 

“Ah,” Zevran laughed again - too easily, “at that I have not. Nor have I made a particularly good impression on the lovely mage.”

Kallian couldn’t help laughing. “Trying to kill people doesn’t usually make a good first impression.” She found herself falling into step with Zevran. “But Morrigan doesn’t get along with anyone, so I wouldn’t bother,” she grumbled. 

“A useful tip as any. Anything else you have to offer? I failed to properly catch  _ your _ name.”

“How did you not know my name? You were hired to kill us.”

“It did make me wonder, how one could be worth the gold to kill, yet they wouldn’t recall your name. A blonde she-elf with a human companion named Alistair was all I got.”

“So they knew it was us then? How did word get to Antiva and back? How did  _ you _ get here so fast? It’s barely been a week.”

“Well that is simple enough. I was merely… in the area.”

She tilted her head in sudden interest. “What were you doing in Ferelden?”

“A long story for another time perhaps. But you have yet to divulge your name.” His pale eyebrows went up in invitation.

“It’s Kallian.”

Making camp was starting to become a bit of an organizational puzzle. Alistair didn’t want to share his tent with either Sten or Zevran - and Kallian couldn’t blame him. At least in that overturned wagon Zevran had some of his own gear, even if he would be sleeping under the stars for now. Morrigan still continued to camp in her own little outpost far from them, but at least had the decency to cast a blazing fire for them and melt ice into water for both cooking and washing before disappearing. 

Kallian attempted to help Leliana skin a couple of rabbits for supper but she winced in pain whenever she gripped the rabbit too hard. Switching hands didn’t help because she couldn’t grasp the knife tightly enough with the injured hand either. 

“I can finish up with these,” said Leliana.

“Thanks.” Kallian wasn’t going to argue. She could feel the cuts cracking and bleeding again every time she flexed her hand. 

Resigning herself to be jeered at, Kallian walked across their camp to the small fire Morrigan had made on her own, as usual.  She wasn’t afraid of asking for things, particularly when she was suffering, but it just so happened that the witch wasn’t a person she wanted to ask for help from.

“Yes?” Morrigan’s eerie eyes pierced Kallian as she stood in front of her.

“How’s our supply? Did you find more elfroot?” 

Morrigan shared a knowing look, hearing the hopeful note in Kallian’s voice. “I have only enough for a single weak potion now. What we had was used up thanks to your pet assassin.”

“He’s not a pet.”

“I rather thought you held his leash now.”

“He’s not-” Her mouth fell closed and she nibbled on her lower lip. As affronted as she felt, Kallian wasn’t sure if Morrigan was wrong. “Well, thanks for nothing,” she said curtly and did an about face, walking back to the main camp. 

She closed her fist then stretched it out again, as if hoping that she would just get used to the deep sting. She stopped by Bodahn’s wagon and handed him a couple silvers for a dark brown bottle. They’d looted the rest of the mercenaries for some small amount of coin. They may not have elfroot, but cheap whiskey would be enough to prevent infection. 

Plopping herself down on the ground by the fire, Kallian used her teeth to pry the cork from the bottle.

Alistair appeared over the hill with Fang trotting behind him. The dog had taken to escorting people to their dug out latrines when dark hit them. Being caught squatting by bandits or wolves would be mighty more deadly than it was embarrassing. 

“I hope you’ve been keeping an eye on him,” said Alistair, with a sideyed glance to Zevran. “I don’t fancy choking to death on my dinner.”

“Nor would I fancy being struck down as soon as one of your capable companions realized what happened,” Zevran answered. 

Much better for him to ensure all were dead at the same time, or no one was alerted as he did them in one by one. Alistair wasn’t wrong that Zevran would need to be watched, at least until he proved his so-called loyalty. 

Leliana passed out steaming bowls and Kallian remembered her bottle of whiskey sat in the grass. “May as well,” she smirked and washed down her first simmering bite with a dose of burning liquid. 

“You’re on first watch, Kal,” Alistair said when he noticed the bottle in her hands. 

Rolling her eyes, Kallian took another sip just to spite him. “I  _ know _ .”

“So your plan is to get drunk? Just brilliant. I don’t know who will get us first, the assassin or the darkspawn.”

“Nah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m saving it.” She grinned as she suddenly remembered. “Conscription ale, yeah? This one’s mine. Think I’ll call it... ‘Henric’s Downfall’ or… No, no I like that.”

That got Alistair laughing, and he ruffled her hair. “Planning to make it that bad, are you? Should be ‘Kallian's Downfall’ then. There's no way you could out drink Henric.”

Leliana tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

Kallian smoothed her hair back down and answered between mouthfuls. “Grey Warden tradition... Passed down for centuries… or some shit.” She snickered, wiping her mouth. “Can’t carry around every bottle you find, so you just, you know, dump ‘em together. There you have it. Conscription Ale.” Henric had been the one to first give her a taste. It was horrible, but she remembered it with fondness.

“That’s disgusting!” Leliana shook her head incredulously.

“ _ That’s _ tradition,” Kallian’s grin was crooked as she took another swig. Shit, she was actually starting to feel a bit of a buzz. 

Alistair scoffed and tried to swipe the bottle but missed as she pulled it away at the last second. He settled for crossing his arms in front of her. “Come on,” he chuckled, “if you keep drinking you’ll have to be off watch.”

Kallian’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Sounds like a plan.” She grinned as his hand ran down his face in exasperation. “Relax, I’m kidding!”  

She slurped down the remnants of the broth and dumped the bits of bone she’d picked out into the fire pit. Despite that being a pretty typical staple in her life, Kallian just didn’t feel as satisfied by that meal as she was used to. The marching must have been wearing her out more than she thought. And the fighting. And the waking up earlier than she’d ever had reason to. Either way, she’d found night after night two servings still didn’t make her feel quite full.

She wandered over to one of the pails of water to dunk her bowl in a few times. Handy to have a mage around. They weren’t near any bodies of water on the road so they had made do with soaking some cloths in some heated water to wipe down their skin. It was enough just to get the feel of dried blood and layer of dirt off her skin.

When she came back Leliana had pulled the attention of the rest of camp. Kallian might have been mistaken but she thought even Sten was a few steps closer. 

“Her Dalish parents recognized her strength, so it was they who forged her armour, gave her the finest ironbark sword, and encouraged her to enter the tournament. But it was only men who were allowed to enter. Do you think that was to stop someone such as Aveline?” Her eyes sparkled. 

Kallian had missed the beginning, and it wasn’t a story she recognized. It caught her attention all the same. Leliana had a way with weaving tales and Kallian found herself smiling in due time. 

“With her helmet on, no one could tell she was a woman, and she beat competitor after competitor until Kaleva - a knight to the emperor. As he grew more frustrated in the fight, his blows became furious, brought down with strength and desperation. Until she was tripped. Her helmet came tumbling off, revealing to all the woman beneath. When he tried to declare the competition invalid, and Aveline disqualified, the crowd booed - as they had been rooting for this new knight. In anger, he turned and slew her where she lay.”

“So she died after all that?” Kallian asked with a curious tilt of her head. “So much for being a heroic knight. Why would Dalish even want to compete in a human tournament?”

“Aveline was human, raised by the Dalish, but it was thanks to -”

“Why would the Dalish raise a human?” Kallian interrupted. “They hate humans. They’re supposed to be... savage, yeah?” 

“And Fereldans all sleep with their dogs, yes?” Zevran said sardonically. 

“Wha-” Kallian scoffed, a grin on her lips in spite of herself. “Well you bloody Antivans-” she was about to flounder for any insult she could throw back.

“Spend all our coin on whores? Stink of fish and leather?” He said with laughter. “All true.”

“Charming. And she did end up being heroic,” Leliana steered the conversation back to her story. “The next emperor, one she had defeated in combat in that very same tournament, recognized her strength and abolished the law that prevented women from becoming Orlesian knights, then honoured her in history as Ser Aveline, the first knighted woman.” 

Kallian couldn’t help but recognize if an elf were to do the same, they would have been stripped from history rather than awarded. But it was a story, what difference did it make to argue about it? “Do you know more? Stories, I mean. I guess you wouldn’t know many Fereldan ones, would you?”

Leliana smiled and leaned forward. “I know a great many more, Fereldan and Orlesian both. Songs as well. All part of being a minstrel, no?”

“A minstrel?” Zevran interjected. 

“Yes. A  _ minstrel _ .” 

Kallian had never seen Leliana speak so curtly to anyone before. Despite her earlier agreement that Zevran be spared, she clearly held no friendship towards him. His sleazy attempts at flirting might have been a contributing factor.

“Hang on, where are you off to?” Alistair drew attention to the fact Zevran had quietly gotten up from the fire.

Kallian narrowed her eyes at him.

“Simply to relieve myself. If that is allowed,” he postured.

“You don’t need permission to piss,” Kallian dismissed the idea. “He  _ doesn’t _ ,” she insisted when Alistair opened his mouth.

“Fine, but I’m following him.”

“Hoping to catch a glimpse of the goods?” Zevran leered.

“Maker’s breath,  _ no _ !” Alistair was turning beet red even as he still followed the elf into the darkness. 

Kallian whistled to Fang. “Go make sure they don’t kill each other, okay boy?” He trotted off to follow them and she pressed them back to their conversation. “So could you sing us something?”

Leliana brightened. “Oh yes, and I figure myself to be quite good at the lute if I may say so.”

Kallian leaned forward eagerly. “Well?”

“Well, what would you like to hear? I know a lot of Orlesian songs and ballads, but I’ve learned my fair share of Fereldan ones too.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kallian turned her palms upwards as she shrugged. She knew some tavern songs and the folk music they often raucously recited at parties in the alienage. “Just pick a favourite or something.”

Leliana’s eyes closed and she pressed a finger to her lips as she thought for a few moments. “Have you heard the Ballad of Ayesleigh?”

Kallian shook her head.

“That’s the one about the fourth Blight,” Alistair said, sitting down near Kallian again. Zevran took his spot alone, but still close to the fire. “It’s about the Grey Wardens.” He shared a smile with Kallian.

“It is.” Leliana smiled. “I imagine you’ve heard of Garahel.”

“Alistair mentioned him,” said Kallian, “but I haven’t heard the story before.”

“Really? Aside from being known as the one to have ended the Blight, he was a charismatic leader in the Wardens, rallying all the armies behind him for a final stand, the battle of Ayesleigh. In it, they finally drew the archdemon to the city so they could end the years of battles before them.”

Alistair chimed in, “They had  _ griffons _ .”

“That they did. Archers and mage griffon riders taking to the skies were key to bringing the archdemon down.” Leliana continued. “But the wardens fell into a trap of the archdemon’s making. They were ambushed in the city by a huge legion of darkspawn. Their numbers dwindled down to a mere three wardens left. All thought the city was lost, that Thedas would succumb to this Blight. It was Garahel, also an archer, who took upon himself to make the final blow. The archdemon was badly wounded, rabid griffons had clawed its wings and torn shreds in its thick hide. He took to his griffon, Crookytail, and met the archdemon, Andoral, head on. Garahel managed to sink his sword into Andoral’s neck, killing the archdemon and ending the Blight once and for all, but lost his life in the skirmish. He was a hero.”

Kallian sat in awed silence, the flames dancing in front of her eyes. An elf from 400 years ago that everyone still remembered the name of. An elven hero. They had fought against all odds too. Three wardens was nearly the same as two wardens after all. 

“If only we had griffons,” she bemoaned. 

“I know,” Alistair said wistfully. “But we’ll get our armies. Duncan made sure of that.” He paused, reflecting a moment. “Would you sing the ballad?” he asked quietly.

Kallian knew Duncan’s sacrifice was at the forefront of Alistair’s mind again. Duncan should be the one sharing the stories of wardens past,  _ leading _ this new generation of wardens. But another warden army had been wiped out, just like that.

Leliana hummed to herself a moment before she sang, “ _ The wind that stirs their shallow graves _ …” Her voice carried high and sweet, yet sorrowful through the song. “ _ When darkness comes and swallows light heed our words and we shall rise _ .”

“That was... beautiful,” Kallian said. There was something powerful in that last line --  _ We shall rise _ . Maybe it wasn’t an army that had risen. But it would be. Like all the wardens before her, she was here to fight. It filled her heart with warmth, swelling in her chest as pride blossomed - there was an entire legacy behind her. 

As the roaring fire burned down to embers, that seemed to be the cue to end Leliana’s songs and tales. 

Alistair side-eyed Zevran, pointedly meeting Kallian’s eyes before flicking back to the other elf again. 

“Okay, okay, Alistair. But we’re not tying him up, alright?” He wasn’t their prisoner.

“No? Ah, such a shame.” Zevran displayed himself, leaning back on his palms. 

“No, but I’ll need all your weapons,” Kallian said, gesturing with her hand.

“Ah, so it is to be like that,” he sighed, getting up and brushing dust from his leathers. Zevran unbuckled his belt, small knives lining it and the two sheathed daggers coming with it. He laid down his sword, bow and quiver, and pulled another pair of knives from hidden sheathes in his bracers.

“Andraste’s tits! That everything then?” Kallian tried to mask her concern with amused laughter, but she was sweeping her eyes across his body for any more hidden compartments for weapons. Armed to the fucking teeth, for all the good it did him. It was the first time that night that she’d actually doubted her decision to let him live. Anyone could serve up a false story to earn sympathy then get them while their guard was down.

“I would check his boots too,” Leliana said, surveying the arsenal that Zevran had put down at his feet. “He probably even-” Leliana parted the leather pleats of his skirt, earning her a lecherous smirk from the elf, “Aha!” Withdrawing her hand from his thigh, she revealed a knife so small, Kallian would barely have considered it a weapon at all, but it was still a weapon.

“Perhaps I should just strip? Or let both your hands wander my body until you find what you are looking for.” His eyes glinted in the dark, and he licked his lips.

“Ugh,” Leliana exclaimed, stepping far out of reach. “No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “Am I allowed to change out of my armour now? Or would you prefer to continue your inspection, warden?” 

“Go ahead.” Kallian felt the heat rising up in her cheeks so she busied herself with wrapping up his weapons and placing them near her side of the fire. When she glanced up, her eyes widened and breath hitched to see his muscles rippling as he pulled off his shirt. “I didn’t mean right here!”

“My apologies. Only that I do not have a tent, and the fire is much warmer a place to undress than out in the dark Fereldan fields,” Zevran said, placing a hand on his hips, making no move to hide his body.

Keenly aware of the red colouring her face, Kallian swiftly stalked to Alistair’s tent. “Alistair... could you let Zevran change in your tent? I’ll give you a copper,” she added as a small bribe.

“You’re better off bargaining with cheese but,” he parted the tent flap, “better in here than out there. D’you really think he’d get completely naked right here in camp?” He whispered incredulously.

Zevran threw a wink in their direction as he sauntered into the tent after Alistair left. 

“Something tells me...Uhhh, he might’ve.”

When the others settled in to sleep, and Alistair was back in his own assassin-free tent, Kallian was left alone with her ass on the ground, back to the fire and gaze pointed outwards. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Every night they kept watch and nothing ever happened. She could have been sleeping. 

Fang had whined and pawed at Alistair’s tent until she ordered him to lay off, and now he too was warming his backside by the fire. Needy dog always wanting someone to cuddle with, as if he wasn’t a giant bear of warmth himself.

Kallian idly scratched behind his ears, wondering what to do to pass the time. Maybe sharpen her daggers. She wished she had a deck of cards or something.

“My pendant’s gone!” Alistair shouted, his wild movements sending the flaps of the tent whooshing open. “I was wearing it earlier and now it’s gone. I never took it off, not even when washing up!”

Zevran stirred, immediately sitting up, completely alert, and Leliana poked her head out of her tent, eyes squinting against the fire light. 

“Your Warden’s Oath?” Kallian’s palm went to feel the matching pendant resting against her chest. “Maybe it fell?” She didn’t see why anyone would take it, but even just losing it was sure to be a sore spot. 

Alistair frowned. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence the night we let an assassin into our camp that my things start going missing.”

“Hm, let me see,” Zevran sounded almost bored. “Is this pendant rather valuable? Worth some coin? I’d hate to have missed out an on opportunity.”

“See?” Alistair jutted his hand out. “Knew an elf like you couldn’t be trusted.”

“What, so only an elf can steal something? Not every elf is a bloody thief, you know.” Kallian couldn’t stop her hackles raising at that comment. It was too ingrained in her now. “You probably just fucking lost it.”

With all the raised voices, it was no wonder Morrigan came stalking over with ire in her eyes. “Tis almost as if you believe you aren’t a fitting example.” She raised her eyebrows at Alistair, as if pointing out the obvious. “If you desire to find a thief, look no further than our resident kleptomaniac.”

“Me?” Kallian said, affronted. “I’ve got my own,” she yanked the string out from under her clothes. “Why would I take his?”

“Lack of impulse control, perhaps?” She sniffed. 

“Kallian...” Alistair said cautiously. “You didn’t...”

“No I fucking didn’t!”

Fang whined anxiously. Trotting between Kallian and Alistair, pushing his head up against the man’s thigh. 

“Then it has to have been him!” He pointed back at Zevran who was now standing with his arms crossed.

Leliana stepped into the heated circle. “Zevran, if it was you, just tell us now.” 

“Why not ask your fellow warden to empty her pockets? Should nothing turn up, by all means turn your accusations to the other elf,” said Morrigan.

“Because of course it was one of us. You couldn’t have just lost it. When in doubt, blame the elf. Bloody brilliant.”

“I don’t really think it was you!” Alistair backpedalled. “I know you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I am a thief, Alistair. And an elf. If you didn’t know me already, you would think I did it too.” He opened his mouth and Kallian raised a finger. “And don’t tell me it had to be Zevran. We both know it’s not worth much of anything.” She pulled the necklace off her neck. “What even is this, pewter? Why couldn’t it have been Sten? He’s a criminal too. Oh, but not a thieving elf. Doesn’t have our quick fingers and knife-ears does he?” 

“I did not steal your trinket,” said Sten, then turned around to lay back down on his bed. 

“Kallian, please,” Alistair said. “That’s not- I just meant. Well he did try to kill us, didn’t he?”

“So it would be pretty stupid to take from the people that spared his life, yeah? And if he did do it,” and Kallian wasn’t saying he couldn’t have, “it wasn’t because he’s an elf. Or Antivan, or whatever. How about you stop pointing your meaty fingers at Zevran and start searching the ground.” 

Zevran spread his palms out, inching forward. “If it would help at all to say I did not do it?”

“No!” Shouted Alistair

At the same time Kallian said an emphatic, “Yes.” And the more they shouted, the louder Fang’s whines became. For a wardog he really seemed to hate any sort of tension in the air. “Down, boy,” she hushed him. But his headbutts became more aggressive.

Fang huffed and walked around the fire again, nudging his nose into Alistair’s palm.

“I say we search him,” Alistair said.

“First semi-intelligent thing you’ve ever said,” Morrigan sniped.

Fang whined again, headbutting Alistair’s leg. “Kal, your Mabari-” Alistair froze when the dog’s muzzle reached his hand once more. “I’ll be-” His face reddened and Kallian watched as something small hung between his fingers, the glass glinting in the firelight and dark liquid stirring inside of it. 

“Fang had it?” A smug look filled Kallian’s face. “You sure you didn’t drop it then, Chantry Boy?”

“I guess it... must have fallen when I went... and Fang followed me to the latrines... he found it. I- sorry Kal,” his face fell a bit.

“Zevran will take your apology when you’re ready,” the smug tone was still in her voice. “Now run off to bed.”

Alistair’s mouth twisted, gaze shifting between Kallian and Zevran, before going back to his tent, this time keeping it open for the mabari to follow - a form of thanks it seemed. 

Morrigan had already turned on her heels, and Leliana smiled softly, shaking her head before retiring again. 

Flopping back down on her ass, Kallian sighed, then winced as she noticed the stinging in her damn hand once more. She had been clenching her fists in anger, and now fresh blood was staining the bandage. She pulled the cork out of her bottle of whiskey with her teeth and pulled off the wrap to clean it out again. It would be just perfect if she woke up the next day with crusty wounds and a swollen palm. 

“Rather bold move, that was,” Zevran said, still awake and watching her with a curious tilt of his head.

“Didn’t fancy having my insides on the outside,” Kallian shrugged. And it was maybe a bit of a panicked move. “Usually something that makes people dead.”

He chuckled lightly. “Yes, insides are best kept there. Still, not something many would have done. Just like many would not have defended a man who tried to kill them that same day.” 

“I was right though. You didn’t do it.”

“Yes, well, all the same, I appreciate the kindness. It is... not something I expected. Have I won your good graces with my charm, perhaps?” He flashed a smile, combing his hair back through his fingers.

She was hardly about to fall for the ‘pretty-face’ act, but the visual was still appealing. His bicep flexed, and the firelight only made his angular features stand out more sharply. The night only making the glow of his eyes more alluring. Yes, he was gorgeous, and still an assassin.

Kallian scoffed, pretending no interest, and glanced at the pile of weapons she had confiscated from him. Suspicion and exclusion fit better into his expectations. She had let him live, even let him join them, but there was still an element of distrust. If he was biding his time for the right moment to try again, he could still be a viper in their den. However, he hadn’t struck yet.

“I don’t know about charm. But you get points for not trying to kill me again,” she said, turning back to him with a grin.

“You did take my weapons,” he said with a knowing look in his honey eyes, playing along. 

“Mine are pretty easy to reach.” Kallian gestured down to her hips. “But if stealing really isn’t your thing,” she smiled sweetly, “the knife in your boot probably would’ve worked too.”

Zevran’s eyebrow only twitched before his face smoothed out into an easy smile. “Ah. I rather thought you had forgotten about that.”

“Is it just the one, or do you have more?”

“One in each boot, actually.” He shook his head, upturning a hand. “If you knew, why let me - ah,” he clasped his hands together, “a test, yes? One I seem to have passed. Hurrah for me!” His gaze never left her, a smile on his lips, but something more in his eyes. He was trying to read her.

“Yeah, luckily you passed.” She had taken a huge gamble, but she trusted her gut. “For now.” She couldn’t help throwing that in. Getting too comfortable too fast could still spell death. And she was still trying to read him too.

Zevran nodded. “Let me add ‘not killing the warden’ to my list of good deeds then. Anything else I can do to earn your favour, my warden?”

She scoffed lightly, seeing him then mirror her own smile. “Setting the bar low, there. ”

“Yes well, it’s all uphill from here, as they say,” he spoke with a mild shrug of his shoulders, lying back down with his head resting on his palms.

“What?” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice. “Don’t you mean, it can only go up from here?”

“Tch - same thing.”

“No!” Laughter bubbled forth more freely. “Going uphill mean’s shit’s getting harder. Like - you ever hiked up a hill?” 

He rolled over to his side, making that same ‘tsk’ sound as she giggled. “You knew what I meant.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY. It took a long time. Half of it was life getting in the way (August was crazy for me) and the other was worrying myself to pieces over presenting a good Zevran now that he's finally here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I hope now that I've got past this hump I can continue on my 2 week schedule (I do have the next few chapters already written!). I hope you like it, love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> Thank you to [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) for helping me where I was stuck and for my friend [Zippuzzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zippuzzle/pseuds/zippuzzle) for the encouragement and extra set of eyes to boost my confidence.


	10. A Village Under Siege

Kallian didn’t tell anyone about the knife Zevran had kept hidden on him. Nothing had come of it, so why add fuel to the already suspicious fire? That and she just didn’t feel like holding any sort of conversation with anyone beyond noncommittal grunts.

Shortened sleep, bullshit accusations and another early morning kept Kallian in a sullen mood, rather like a pouty child. To add to her pervasive irritability, Sten had decided he had to have a conversation with her at last. Everyone else figured out to keep well enough away while they marched along the road, but of course the qunari wasn’t about to feel threatened by her. 

“What doesn’t make sense?” Kallian huffed in response. 

“You look like a woman,” he said as if that explained everything.

Maybe qunari always assumed all elves looked the same? It was kind of true that at least plenty of men had fine enough features to make someone do a double take. “Well. I am one.”

“But you are a Grey Warden.  Women are not fighters. You cannot be a woman and yet you look like one.”

Kallian’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared. “I’ve been fighting everyday since Leliana plucked you out of that cage, and years before that. And I’m a girl.”

“No. Women are artisans, shopkeepers, farmers,” Sten said. His way of speaking indicated his word was truth, absolute.

“Wow, real big range there. And what, if you don’t want to be one of those then…”

He frowned down at her. “You do not choose. One simply is. Just as you cannot choose whether qunari, human, elf or dwarf. You cannot choose your hair colour, or height. You are born as you are, nothing more.”

Kallian’s irritation grew and she halted in the road. “Well no shit, I can’t make myself bloody taller. But you can choose what to  _ do _ . Punching is a thing I do.” Not an outward threat but the imagery had played out in her head. “I’m a fucking girl and I fight. Pretty damn well.”

She’d started off marching far ahead in the lead, the others giving Kallian the wide berth she desired. But when she stopped, everyone caught up enough to hear the tail end of the conversation. 

“I’d trust my back to Kallian any day of the week,” Alistair said as he strode to her side, his chin raised in challenge.

“Hm. That remains to be seen,” said Sten.

Sten gave Kallian one more up and down glance before she heaved a loud sigh of exasperation and started walking again. Alistair loped in big strides, easily keeping up with her rather than hanging back again.

She tilted her head up at him, watching him opening his mouth several times, each time closing it before uttering a single word. “You trust a thief at your back then?” Kallian asked. Her lips turned up in a half smile - she was mostly just being sarcastic.

“I trust  _ you _ at my back,” he said more sincerely than she could have expected. “And I know I already said it, but I wanted to say it again. I’m sorry for last night.” 

“You’d think I’d be used to it. It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be. At least not from me.” He reached out with a hand, as if to pat her shoulder or wrap an arm over her, but let it fall to his side again. “You can always tell me when I’m being an idiot. Just say it. ‘Alistair you’re being an idiot again’ and I’ll close my mouth.”

That he  _ didn’t  _ try to force his touch on her, even a gentle gesture, had her chest suffusing with warmth.  Kallian ducked her head. “You’re not an idiot, Alistair.” 

Alistair leaned closer. “Do feel free to share that with Morrigan. I need  _ someone _ on my side.”

She snickered, then softened. “You know I’m on your side. In everything, yeah?” Kallian might have been saying that just hoping to hear that same reassurance back. Her defences went up so quickly these days. They had to be tough walls -  _ she _ had to be tough. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, but I’m glad I don’t have to go at this all alone, you know?  _ You _ don’t have to go at it alone.”

Kallian wrapped an arm over his waist - as if she could ever reach his shoulders - and briefly touched her temple to his arm. “Thanks.”

They fell into companionable silence for a while, trading a canteen back and forth for water and splitting a hunk of cheese as they walked. It was enough to keep the hunger at bay.

“So,” Alistair broke the silence, “there’s something I need to tell you, and I probably should have told you before but I didn’t know how to and I don’t-”

“Hey, relax. Just tell me. Friends, right?” 

He still wasn’t looking at her, gaze purposefully directed forward. “It’s… aboutmyfather,” he said in one breath. Alistair winced as if he expected the hammer to fall.

“What?” Kallian asked with trepidation.

“Well I told you how Arl Eamon raised me. And that my mother was a serving girl.” He stopped walking, sparing a glance behind them before motioning for her to follow him over to a tree. “And how I was raised in Redcliffe, right?”

She mouthed to Leliana to make the others wait. A pit of worry was starting to grow in her stomach. Was he actually the Arl’s bastard son? Had he been sent away and wasn’t supposed to come back? Touching a palm to his arm so he would at least look down to meet her eyes, she spoke quietly. “What’s going on, Alistair?”

“The reason the Arl took me in... was because Maric was my father. Which I guess technically would have made Cailan my - er - half brother I suppose. So that’s it. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Again he looked like he was bracing for a slap.

“What?” Kallian shouted.

“Not so loud, Kal,” Alistair hushed her. 

“Shit sorry. Andraste’s tits. Really?”

“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you.”

“Alistair, that makes you like, the heir or something, doesn’t it?” Shit. And they were already wanted. Loghain after them for - “Does Loghain know? With King Cailan dead, and then you - Zevran!” She hissed. “Is it really about the wardens, or does he just want you out of the way of the throne?” Her mind was racing almost faster than she could verbally keep up.

“That’s - he wouldn’t. I mean, Eamon always made it very clear that I was  _ not  _ up for the throne in any way. That’s just, just ridiculous.”

Her jaw fell open for a split second. “If he knew and this is all some power thing, that puts you in danger, us! Not just a bounty, but an actual assassin hired to kill us both. Kinda puts us in danger. I mean you’re what... a prince?” 

“Maker no! Grey Wardens don’t have titles. I’m no heir, just somebody who wasn’t lucky enough to die with the rest of the wardens.” 

As his gaze dropped, Kallian squeezed his arm. “What about me? Leave me alone to deal with this mess? I need you too - and not just ‘cause you read the maps.” More because Alistair was the one person she actually had that she trusted implicitly. Allies were one thing, but Kallian needed her friend. 

That earned her a small but genuine smile. “All the same, I should probably teach you that, if you like, that is.”

Kallian did her best to suppress a smile, her face a mask of solemness. “As you wish, my prince.” Her dark eyes darted upwards, sparkling with mischief as she gave a half bow.

“Oh, knock it off!”

Her laughter rang high and clear in the air as they went back to the road. “Yes, m’lord.”

“Actually it would be ‘Your Highness’ to a pr- why am I telling you this? I’m  _ not _ a prince!” He palmed his face. “Now you’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope!” She said, popping the ‘p’ with an impish look. “But you’re right. Not a prince. You’re a bastard - a  _ royal _ bastard.”

“You just couldn’t resist you annoying little-” Alistair poked her side and she swerved away, laughing still. 

It was easy for Kallian to push away any concerns for the future. Usually. She and Alistair were both wanted, maybe him even more than her. She couldn’t help looking back at the very assassin sent for them both. Would it change his resolve? If he knew Alistair was some sort of bastard-prince, that could be leverage. Would he decide it was worth more coin? 

“Maybe we should keep this between us for now, yeah?”

Alistair nodded. “I think I’d prefer that, to be honest.”

Whatever aura of grumpiness Kallian seemed to be emanating to keep everyone at a distance must have dissipated, for soon enough Leliana was humming a tune, which turned into a soft Orlesian ballad that Kallian couldn’t understand. The song put a bit of purpose in her strides, a bit more hope for arriving in the city and actually sorting out this shit with the Arl. 

“There it is,” Alistair said. “Wow. Never thought I would be back here.”

The red cliffs that gave the arling its name jutted out at odd angles. From where they were, she could make out the churning waters of the large lake expanding to the north. Lake Calenhad was a stretch of grey, reflecting the darkness of the clouds. Alistair informed them that Redcliffe village was just down below, nestled beneath the cliffside. From there they could make their way up to the castle. 

“And they have inns? Taverns?” Kallian asked.

“Of course. We should be able to find somewhere in town for the night. If we can scrape up the coin that is…”

“We’ll figure it out later. Let’s just see what all this shit with the Arl is, then go from-”

“Hello! Thank goodness someone’s made it in time!” A man was sprinting across the bridge, waving his arms to flag them down. “Please tell me you’re here to help!” His eyes darted to each member of their party in turn.

“Is it the Arl? Has he taken a turn for the worse?” Alistair asked.

“The Arl? He could be bloody  _ dead _ for all we know. Does that mean-? So no one’s heard?” At the blank-faced response he got, his skin paled considerably. “We’ve been left for dead then. The monsters, they come for us at night, more every day.”

“Monsters?” Kallian paced forward. “You mean darkspawn?”

“No. These - these  _ things _ . Dead rising to attack us. Please, say you’ll stay and help us!” 

Morrigan sniffed. “Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvelous, really."  
Kallian frowned but nodded. _Darkspawn_ rose from the ground to attack. She’d never heard of whatever this man was talking about, if in fact they weren’t darkspawn - it’s not as if many people had seen them before now to know what they looked like.

The man, Tomas, informed to Alistair’s relief that they could go speak to a Bann Teagan, who was dealing with the resistance(?) effort. 

They followed him down into Redcliffe village, where they passed house after house, buildings boarded up or others with doors left open and the insides barren of life. Wooden stakes jutted out of the ground, narrowing footpaths to barely passable roads. Grim-faced men looked on with flashes of interest in their eyes as the party was led into the Chantry - the heart of the village and where whatever fortifications they could muster were built up the most. 

It was hardly a fortress from which to defend darkspawn.

Inside the Chantry, the picture was just as bleak, if not more. That’s where the children were gathered, too many looking scared and lost, and women who looked to have lost all steel in their eyes. It was Lothering all over again.

A lone man stood looking rather haggard, hand on his hips as he spoke quietly to a chantry sister. 

“Ah, Tomas, is it? And you’ve brought travellers?” He frowned in worry.

“They had hoped to meet with the Arl so I thought it best to bring them to you, my lord.”

Teagan straightened but that did not take away from dark circles beneath his eyes. “Greetings my good man,” he addressed Alistair. “I am Bann Teagan of Rainsefere. Unfortunately I don’t know what help we can offer you. The area has been plagued by ill-luck.”

“It’s been a while, Bann Teagan, you may not recall since the last time you saw me I was all covered in mud,” Alistair said with a sheepish grin.

The Bann squinted at Alistair, taking the chance to really look him in the eyes. “Alistair? Maker’s breath, is that really you? I can’t say how pleased I am to see you, my boy. Though I wish dearly it were under better circumstances. Eamon on his deathbed? Cailan dead? Madness, I tell you. And Loghain: I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”

“So you don’t believe what Loghain’s been saying about the wardens?” Kallian said, a sliver of hope in her voice. 

“Believe? Of course not.” His attention returned to Alistair. “When he returned from Ostagar with his army intact, claiming regency over the throne and the  _ wardens _ were the ones to betray the king?” Teagan scoffed. “I never took him for being so opportunistic. Without Arl Eamon’s influence though, he may very well have his way.”

Incredible timing then, that the Arl was sick.

Zevran appeared to have read her mind. “What a convenient coincidence, no?”

“What’s happened to the Arl? The knight we’d met in Lothering said he was ill,” Alistair inquired. 

Teagan scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Ah, that. With all that’s been going on, I can’t say. All I know is he grew weaker by the day, not eating or drinking and nothing seemed to cure his ailment. Then the monsters started coming. It’s been all we could do to just survive through each night.”

“Tomas said they were undead. Not darkspawn?” Kallian tried to clarify.

“We can thank the Maker it hasn’t been darkspawn. Attacked on both fronts like that…” Teagan gazed at the surviving villagers in the chantry. “We’re lucky we’ve lived this long, to say the least. Will you stay? Help? Surely with a Grey Warden on our side we can drive them back.” 

“And then what?” Kallian butted in. She was beginning to feel a bit irritated every time he refused to directly address her. “If these things come every night then you just have to do it all over again. What’s the source?”

His gaze went straight to Alistair -- the human -- despite answering  _ her _ question. “They come in droves from the castle. It’s been barred to us for days - no contact. We may be able to spare the manpower to gain entry though, if you’ll lend your aid, Alistair.”

This. Fucking. Shem. 

“It’s not just up to me, Teagan.” Alistair’s heavy hand landed on her left shoulder. “Kallian is who you should be making your plea to. Where she goes, I follow,” he spoke in her defence. Again.

Teagan’s eyebrows went up, flustered expression quickly rearranging into something resembling apologetic. “My apologies, warden. I hadn’t realized- well, you’ll have to forgive me, I wasn't aware.” 

It must have been out of habit, that Kallian looked for her fellow elf.  _ Fucking shems _ , her brown eyes rolling up said, to be met with a smirk from Zevran.

Finally he sought her eye contact rather than the human man. “Would you and your party help us?”

“Yeah, of course.” That wasn’t ever a question. But it still left one unanswered. “But we still need to find out about the Arl.” The castle was the source of the attacks. The castle was where the Arl was. 

“We will have to deal with that come morning. There is already little time before the sun goes down, and I fear we aren’t nearly ready to meet the onslaught. The mayor, Murdock, can tell you what needs doing.”

Why not meet the problem head on? Divert the attack before it even got to the village. “Have you gone to the castle at all?”

“No one mans the gates. With no word form inside, we aren’t really sure what lies in there. We haven’t the resources to divert when all we can do is protect the people that remain alive  _ here _ .”

Kallian nodded. Their defences were weak enough already. But maybe if they had turned their attention to the castle sooner they wouldn’t have been down so many people.

Outside the chantry, Morrigan saw fit to speak her mind - as if she ever held back. “"Ahh, fresh air. 'Twas difficult to breathe within with all that self-righteousness crowding the air. Why waste our time here. ‘Tis the Arl you sought for aid, and he will not be able to provide it. Move on.” 

It was almost comical how much Kallian just didn’t know how to respond to that. Her face scrunched up, mouth half open with unformed words, and a harrowing side eye exchanged with Alistair were all she could come up with. 

“You would abandon these poor people?” Leliana put at least one thought to words, though with decidedly less cursing. 

“If they cannot help themselves, why is it our job to fix their problems?” said Morrigan.

“We won’t waste more time than we have to,” Kallian interrupted what she was sure was brewing to be a nice bout of bickering. “Zevran, what do you know about sneaking into castles?” 

“Oh?” His pale eyebrows went up, and his features slid into a mischievous smile. “Well now this just became interesting. It is something I am familiar with. Planning a dashing and heroic rescue of the Arl, are we?”

“I just wanna know what the fuck is going on.”

“But Kal, what about the people here? We should be staying to help them fight,” Alistair said.

Kallian nodded. “We are, or will. If we can’t figure out the shit at the castle, I’ll be back before the sun goes down. Or we stop all this before it happens. They should have gone up there already,” she muttered. “Once we talk to this Murdock fellow, you can help with preparations. Fix barricades, make a defense plan, yeah?”

“Somebody looking for me?” A man turned as Kallian walked past.

“Murdock?” she asked.

“Aye. And who might you be?”

“We’re Grey Wardens,” Kallian said simply enough. “Tell Alistair what stuff you need help with and we’ll see what we can do, okay?” She was already planning three steps ahead at this point.

“They let women in, do they?” He looked at Kallian down the length of his nose, sizing her up and apparently coming up short.

Of course speaking to Murdock made Kallian’s jaw clench and teeth grind as soon as the first words were out of his mouth. Was she, a woman,  _ really _ a warden?

Even Alistair palmed his face - familiar with how this line of dialogue went. 

“Lucky for you, they let in people who are good at fucking fighting. And I am.” 

“I’m not about to refuse help from anyone who wants to. Don’t take me for being an ingrate or nothing.”

“Good to know. The survival rate of ingrates is remarkably low so I hear,” Zevran piped up, rather dismissively surveying the man.

Was that a threat? Kallian grinned. “We’ll need some supplies of our own. Do you have a general store or something?” Lockpicks wouldn’t be enough to get them through a fortified gate and centuries old walls.

Murdock sighed. “Can’t say there’s much left of anything. Feel free to take what you find though. Lloyd, up at the village tavern probably has more to offer, but he’s a right greedy bastard.”

 

* * *

 

After scrounging up some rope and delegating the village preparations to Alistair - who bemoaned being left with Sten and Morrigan - the three rogues were ready to set off towards the bridge to Redcliffe Castle.

“Be careful,” Alistair warned.

“You too.”

“From… the villagers?”

“No.” Kallian giggled. “Morrigan and Sten. See you later!” she called in a singsong voice, already pulling Leliana along by the elbow, and Zevran following behind them.

“Kallian!”

There was a bounce in Kallian’s step as they walked. Sneaking around, lying, and stealing were all a bit exciting to her - maybe for the danger of it all, or just because she liked being able to get away with things she wasn’t supposed to. That same excitement rippled up her spine at this too. “This is gonna be fun.”

“If this is what you consider fun, I’d hate to see the kind of trouble you brought to Denerim,” Leliana teased.

“Only the normal sort. Never broke in anywhere though. This is gonna be awesome.” She repeated her sentiments. 

With the stone walls set to the edge of the sheer cliff face, that left only one mode of entry, unlike the estates in Denerim’s noble district, it was through the gate or nowhere at all. That made it a bit more challenging. Seeing it from the end of the bridge made it that much more daunting. The walls were high even at the front, with rigid iron gates sealing the oak door.

“So how many times have you had to scale castle walls, Zevran?” Seeing as they weren’t going around, under or through, that left climbing. 

“It is a good thing you decided to keep me along, yes? I have had the fun of dangling precariously from ropes more often than not. And half of those times were not even for work,” he said salaciously. Leliana made a disgusted noise and he smirked before hefting the coil of rope from over his shoulder. “A simple strong knot and good aim with the grappling hook should do it. Normally the tricky part is avoiding the guards and memorizing their patrol and rotations. Not such a problem here.” His eyes narrowed as they got closer to the gate. 

“It’s a bit eerie,” Leliana said, “a castle such as this should be bustling with people and yet… nothing.”

“Better than sneaking into a guarded castle though, right?” said Kallian.

“Not if you are hoping to find someone living on the other side,” Zevran said grimly, eyes on his hands as he crouched down to tie the end of the rope to the hook.

“Yeah… shit.” Kallian shielded her eyes, squinting up at the towers on either side of the gate. No movement. “Even without his army, Alistair said this Arl’s opinion means a lot to other nobles, I guess - that he could stand up to Loghain.”

Zevran laughed sardonically. “Of course.”

“Not an accident, right?” Kallan remembered his sarcasm in the chantry.

“Your Loghain seems to be doing an excellent job following Antivan tradition. Best to eliminate your foes before they even have a chance to protest. He knows who his rivals are. He may have even hired more crows than just myself.” He stood up, walking a bit backwards as he swung the hook in one hand, picking up momentum. “Stand back.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know how to spot a crow,” said Leliana.

“Only thing is,” he grunted as he tossed the hook, “if he is sick, poison would not normally be so slow unless administered small doses at a time, to make it look like an illness. If that is the case-” The hook clinked off the stone but didn’t catch.

“It’s someone who’s still here,” Kallian finished the thought.

The hook clanked against the wall again, but this time caught on the ledge of the guard tower, staying firm when Zevran tugged the rope. “Ah ha! Ladies first?” he held the rope in one hand as if offering her the open door of a carriage.

The walls and buildings in Denerim, at least outside of the palace district were nowhere near the height of this one, but she knew how to climb, and was soon above both their heads.

“Who is that?” Leliana asked. “There’s someone on the bridge.”

Kallian was already digging her toes into the crevices of the stone. “Hm? Who?” Her jaw was tense as she focused on moving hand over hand rather than take a peek down to the ground. Ignoring the pain of gripping the rope with her injured hand was trying enough. Fucking great way to make the healing take longer.

“Just there, it’s-”

“Ah!” Kallian shouted, as a blur of a person dropped down the wall beside her. She bent her knees, tightening against the wall, bracing for incoming projectiles - people? She glanced downward to see the top of Leliana’s head and Zevran just beginning his climb below her.

“Brasca!” She heard Zevran shout from below. The rope jostled again as he dropped off of it.

“Zev?” 

“Undead!” he shouted.

At the same time Leliana gasped, “Maker have mercy!”

A clamour of rattling armour and guttural growls was sounding from all around them. Sparing a glance downwards she watched half rotted corpses shambling across the bridge. Bare bone was exposed between chunks of rotting flesh barely hanging on, the muscle stringy and blackened. “Hurry! Climb!” Kallian shouted  More came crawling up the rocks beneath the bridge, moving unnaturally, as if puppets on strings. “Leliana, move!” 

She was torn between dropping down to help fight or climbing up faster to give the others room to get onto the rope too. She watched Leliana give Zevran cover to climb out of range, but the arrows did nothing to slow the monsters. The dead didn’t feel pain. More skeletal bodies appeared over the wall, swarming like ants. One by one they dropped, and Kallian had to focus on the wall in front of her. 

Her knuckles were white as she kept grip of the rope, trying to find her footing as fast as possible without risking slipping either. The rope shook, and she looked down, expecting to see Leliana or Zevran climbing, but they were backing up as they fended off the undead. It shuddered in her hands again and she looked up to see the blade of an axe come down on the rope.

Kallian screamed as the rope snapped, feet skidding against the wall and hands flying out as she fell backwards. She hit the ground hard on her back, head smacking the ground. The wind got knocked out of her, and she lay stunned as she stared at the sky, gasping for breath. 

When she rolled onto hands and knees, dizziness gripped her and strong hands slipped underneath her armpits., She groaned as Zevran helped her to her feet and pushed her back against the wall, none too gently. Panting, Kallian unsheathed a dagger, a steadying hand against the wall as she blinked hard to try to get the spinning to stop. 

A walking corpse lunged at her from the left, and Zevran threw himself in front of her as she belatedly brought her weapon up to deflect the blade. His own dagger went straight through the corpse’s head and it fell, unmoving. 

“We need to get out of here!” Leliana shouted. 

“Fuck,” Kallian mumbled. Moving. Fighting. Not good.

Zevran leaned back and she found herself suddenly pressed against the wall by his body as he snapped his leg up, kicking one corpse into another to send them careening back.

“Go!” Zevran said, and tugged Kallian from the wall, then pushed her through the momentary hole in the wall of enemies. 

She stumbled forward a few steps before stopping. Kallian was breathing hard as she focused her vision directly in front of her, on the ground. Her dizziness began to ease though her body ached fiercely. It was enough to put her energy into the fight, though. 

Gripping both hilts tight, she lunged from behind, grunting with the effort of driving her dagger into skulls and ripping them back out just as fast.

Zevran swiped the legs out from under a corpse, and as it fell it sent another two bodies falling into the lake below. He brought his sword down in a wide arc, severing the legs off one of the fallen bodies on the ground. Undead as it was, it kept crawling forward, jaws snapping, driven by some unseen force to attack them.

“Not today!” he grunted as he drove the point of his sword down through the skull.

The three of them backed up along the bridge, and the further they moved away from the castle, the fewer of the undead came shambling after them. Leliana still turned and sent more arrows into the thinning group as they rushed away. The dark figures that loomed over the tops of the walls retreated too. 

They hurried back down the path from the bridge and Kallian collapsed to the ground on her knees as soon as the castle was out of sight.  _ Don’t throw up, please don’t throw up _ .

“Are you alright?” Leliana cried in alarm.

Bruised, battered, rattled and shaken, but nothing she couldn’t manage. “Andraste’s flaming tits,” Kallian gasped. The dizziness and nausea passed and she looked up again. “Next time I point out something being unguarded, or easy, or any dumb shit like that, remind me to touch wood.” She scoffed. 

“Touch wood? Is this a Fereldan superstition?” Zevran asked, offering her a hand once again. 

Kallian shrugged and declined the help up from Zevran. She would not be seen as weak. “No reason to give ourselves even more bad luck than what we already got. Fucking. Useless.”

“Not entirely,” Leliana offered. “We know what these monsters look like, and how to kill them.”

“And how many arrows did you already waste on that?” Kallian asked, glancing at the quiver slung over the redhead’s shoulder. 

“Wasted? No. That only means fewer of those things to attack at night. Besides,” She turned and gave Zevran a sweet smile. “Perhaps our assassin will be willing to share?”

His own quiver was untouched, as he hadn’t even drawn his bow in the skirmish. “Perhaps. And will I get the pleasure of sharing a kiss in return?” He grinned even as her smile fell. “No? For shame. Redheads are so rare to find in Antiva. They say it is lucky to share a kiss with one.” 

“That’s not a real thing,” Kallian snorted then groaned as she stiffly walked down the sloped path. Her back was aching something awful. 

“Have you ever been to Antiva?” Zevran asked, falling into step beside her, despite her slow pace.

She shook her head no. 

“Then how would you know, my warden?” The teasing was evident in his smile.

“You really don’t have gingers in Antiva?” she asked. Funny how common they were in her own life. “Surprised I’m not one. Family is full of them. But guess I take after more of my mum.” And she regretted the words instantly. Not like Kallian was hoping to share things about family, and home.

“Gingers!” he exclaimed. “That was the word for it. Though I cannot say why. Have you seen ginger? Much more of a pale brown. But alas, no. We favour our dark-haired beauties just as we favour our fish chowder and rich red wines.” He sighed, and it sounded almost wistful.

“You really came all the way from Antiva to-” and it suddenly felt weird to say ‘assassinate us’ so casually with him, “-for a job?” she asked instead.

“Mm, no, not exactly. I was in the neighbourhood, shall we say? It was… convenient.”

“Why did you leave Antiva then?” Kallian pressed. “Was it because you wanted to leave the Crows? Can you even go back? After… all this.” A better question might be: when exactly would ‘all this’ be over?

He laughed uneasily. “So many questions. One does not simply leave the Crows.” 

“But you did want to leave the Crows didn’t you? I mean, why  _ wouldn’t _ you?” He knew he was bought and owned. Kallian would certainly bide her time until she saw a way out.

“Well those of us good enough to survive the training do come to receive some of the benefits. Otherwise why would anyone stay, hm?”

Her stomach turned. “Survive?”

“The Crows buy all their assassins young, raise them to know nothing but murder. Compete against your fellow hopeful assassins.” Zevran’s tone remained as airy as if they were talking about cheese preferences. “If you do poorly, then you die.” 

Her eyebrows drew together as she watched his face closely - so nonchalant. “That’s pretty fucked up, Zevran.” Did he  _ know _ it was fucked up? 

“It was not all bad. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you many things. Respect, riches, women… or men - whatever it is you fancy. But it comes without a choice. You must do what is expected of you at all times. It means being expendable.” He shrugged a shoulder. “It is a cage, if a gilded one. Pretty but confining.”

“So why not leave sooner? Thedas is a pretty big place, I hear.” 

He barked out laughter. “So I could become a mark of the next up and coming Crow? Hunted every step of the way? I think not. The only way out is death - or for them to think you are dead.”

“Or to hide behind some Grey Wardens,” Kallian added. Not as if that opportunity came up much.

He chuckled in agreement. “There is that. They will come eventually, but eventually can be a very long time, if one plays their cards right.”

“So they’ll still come for you. Even just to check if you died or not?” Because he was their property. Bought and trained and owned - just like a Mabari. 

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “But do not fear, I should be able to warn you should I suspect Crows about. And perhaps with the darkspawn spreading that may hold them back a little longer.”

“Hooray for the Blight,” Kallian said sarcastically. After a beat she added, “I hope you don’t think the wardens are… like a cage… or whatever. I mean that you aren’t owned by us, yeah?” Though maybe it didn’t feel that way when he couldn’t exactly leave; that only opened himself up to death from the Crows instead. She remembered the words from Morrigan that rankled her so. “I’m not holding your leash.” 

Zevran gave her a slow nod and a small smile. “And pleased I am to hear it.”

“You’re back already? Did you get in?” Alistair was striding towards them, past the gathering knights on the hill. “What happened?” He asked as he took in their ruffled state.

Dust, dirt, and corpse gunk splattered their skin, hair and armour. Kallian’s braid was coming loose and her steps were still slow. 

“She fell off a rope,” Zevran supplied. “And corpses tried to kill us. They did not succeed, however, as you can see. He threw Kallian a wink. “I only regret I did not react fast enough to catch you.” 

“Uh huh. I’m fine,” Kallian said, before Alistair could ask. 

“You should probably still sit for a while,” Leliana advised. “You fell from much higher than our heads.”

“Maker! I told you to be careful!” Alistair fretted. 

“I was,” she grumbled. “Bloody undead cut the rope. Nevermind that. People here ready to fight?” Her body protested walking, how was  _ she _ going to keep fighting? Maybe sitting down would be a good idea. 

“Blacksmith won’t let any of us in. I got Sten to at least work with the others at building up the barricades. Morrigan’s a bitch. And we’re supposed to feel lucky that we’ve got the six knights that came back from looking for the urn!” He pushed his hair back, the front spiking up even more than it usually did. “The people are frightened. I don’t know how we’ll manage this, Kal,” he said quietly to her as they walked back down to the village together.

Sitting would have to wait. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the best beta a girl could ask for (as usual!) and thank you to everyone reading.
> 
> Let's chat in the comments!


	11. The Attack at Nightfall

The grey daylight was dimming fast and there was woefully still too much to do before the sun set and the undead were upon them. Just outfitting the fighters with new blades, more arrows, figuring out how to even get the holed up blacksmith to perform his damn job, was enough for a day. They had maybe hours. 

Alistair had spent his time looking for a lost boy, at the behest of his older sister, trying to reunite them before dusk. He had found the child, hiding in a cupboard in his own home. At least that delay had been worth it. 

No one commented on Kallian’s failed expedition, luckily. 

She knocked on the blacksmith’s door. “Hello?” No answer. “Owen?”

“I told you. He was drunk as a sailor, and wouldn’t even hear us out once Morrigan called him a blubbering fool and then he kicked us out,” Alistair explained. 

“Should I lie to him? Make up stories to tell everyone how the world is full of butterflies and no one ever dies. Or bestow upon him pretend promises of a Maker watching over him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with  _ hope _ ,” Alistair said. 

Leliana nodded. “I find comfort in believing the Maker is guiding our path. Faith can be something that carries us forward. Is there nothing that does the same for you?”

“Power. ‘Tis the only thing I can count on. Myself. Not some imaginary-”

“Not the time for fighting about the Maker, guys,” Kallian said sharply. She had quietly begun picking the lock while they bickered. When one of the picks snapped and fell to the ground, she cursed under her breath and pulled out another from her belt.

“I happen to know a thing or two about picking locks, should that be needed,” Zevran offered.

And so did Leliana. And so did she. “I got this.” 

The other pick had gotten wedged too far back and when she had tried to wiggle it, it had broken instead. Luckily the pieces fell out. Otherwise it would have been jammed. She tried her best to ignore the stares of anticipation a she started over, twisiting and prodding the picks back and forth until she felt it give. This time she moved with even gentler hands, and was able to push the last pin into place. 

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “See? Easy.” 

The sharp stench of alcohol hit her in the face when she pulled the door back. 

“I said leave me alone!” the single occupant slurred. The large figure of a bearded man was leaned back on a chair, legs sprawled out and a bottle in hand. It had to be Owen. 

“It smells like a brewery in there,” Leliana whispered rather scathingly.

Kallian had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop laughter from bubbling out. Letting Alistair hold the door open to shed a bit more light inside, Kallian chanced a single step over the threshold. 

Owen rose from his chair, heavy steps wobbling towards her as he braced himself on the wall. “Who’re you? Get out or I’ll...I’ll - oh what’s the use.” He flopped back down, head in hands.

“Can we use your forge?” She cut right to the chase. 

“You?” He narrowed his eyes at her and visibly jumped in his seat. “Didn’t sound like an elf from the outside.” Reaching an arm behind himself, he turned up the single lit oil lamp. “Don’t know why you need to make your eyes go and do that - that thing.”

Someone behind her sucked in air between their teeth.

Wasn’t the first time a human had been spooked by a reflective pair of eyes. Normally it was good for a laugh. Her patience was already stretched too thin. “What are we supposed to sound like? Next time I’ll make sure I sound nice and ‘elf-like’ for you. But you’ll probably be dead by morning so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Good. Be better off dead. And the whole lot of ‘em.” He gestured wildly, and took a swig of the last of the liquid sloshing around his bottle. “Leaving my Valena trapped up there for days. Not like bloody Murdock cares.”

“So you won’t help anyone else because your daughter is stuck in the castle? No one can rescue her if they’re all dead.” 

“I’ve  _ asked _ them to go look. Say they can’t spare the men. For all I know she’s- No. I can’t bear to think of it.” 

“Bann Teagan promised an expedition into the castle tomorrow. We’re going. We can keep an eye out for her.”

Owen surged up from his chair again, startling Kallian when he grabbed both her shoulders. 

She flinched, and all the muscles in her body seized in a fight or flight response to the man’s large hands on her.

“Promise me!” he said, half crazed. “Promise me you’ll find her and bring her back to me. Then… you can take all I have. I’ll even fix up your gear. And the rest of the town’s.”

“I’ll find her. I’ll look everywhere in the castle,” she said rushing out her words so he would just back off.

He pulled back then, nodding to himself. “Good. Good. Thank you.”

“Are you sure you can… you know? Work the forge?” Alistair questioned from the doorway.

“I may be drunk, but I can forge weapons better than every man in this village.” He grunted as he pushed open the sliding door of the forge, so heat of the flame could circulate out into the early evening air. His red and puffy eyes were that much more apparent in the light now filling the room. “They’ll have their weapons. And tomorrow, the castle.”

When the other villagers saw smoke beginning to rise from the forge, they began hauling over broken weapons, a crowd gathering around Owen as he set to work. Hopefully it would be enough. 

“Did it ever occur to you that his daughter is likely dead?” Morrigan asked. “Why are we promising to help every sorry person we come across?”

Having already seen the swarming nature of the undead, Kallian had certainly considered it. “Did it ever occur to you that I lied? He got what he wanted. We got what we wanted. Guess those false promises and hope do some good, yeah?”

“We should still keep an eye out for any survivors,” Leliana said.

“Of course we will,” Alistair agreed wholeheartedly. “Won’t we?” he added.

“I dunno. Thought we might just leave everybody to fend for themselves,” Kallian said brightly, then gave them a ‘duh’ look. “Maybe focus on surviving tonight? We saw the undead. Not smart, but not easy to kill. Hacking limbs off slows them down, but they just kind of, keep coming. Gross really. Getting them in the head makes them go down for good though. Anywhere else doesn’t even seem to affect the sodding things.”

“This sounds like the work of a demon,” said Morrigan. “Were I you, I might take a closer look at any mages in the area.”

Kallian frowned. Poisoning and demons? More coincidences that weren’t really coincidences?

Zevran shrugged when she looked at him. 

Yeah, she didn’t think demons and mages were a specialty of an assassin. 

“General store looted of every herb and bandage, I’m guessing?” Kallian asked Alistair.

He nodded. “Most supplies were moved into the Chantry so they could treat the wounded safely inside. They just had a couple barrels of oil left, and some cookbooks.”

“Not even a cookbook could help you, Alistair,” Morrigan jabbed. 

Kallian snorted.

“Hey!” Alistair exclaimed.

“She’s right. You suck. But oil is good. They come kind of in like… groups you know? Like darkspawn hordes. We could light up the path with fire, down them before they break through the barricade, couldn’t we?”

“Brilliant, you’re brilliant, Kal.” Alistair beamed. 

“Ah yes, or instead of fighting regular undead, then we have to deal with  _ flaming _ undead,” Zevran chirped in dryly. 

She had Sten and Alistair with the help of some of the other villagers handle the heavy lifting while the rest went to the single place open for business - the tavern.

No sooner had they sat down, than the barmaid came over, tray already full of mugs sloshing with ale that they hadn’t ordered, nor paid for. “Fellows over there send their thanks,” she said, nodding her chin at the men seated in the corner. “Say you’re the ones helping defend the village tonight.” Her red eyebrows were raised expectantly.

“We are.” Kallian couldn’t stop the pleased smile, nor the pride settling in her chest. She turned around to see the three men raise their mugs towards her once she’d caught their eyes. Grinning, she lifted her free mug as well before taking a sip. 

“Good that someone’s doing something,” the maid whispered. “Not like Lloyd would ever put his fat arse on the line.” She shook her head. “Sorry. If you need anything else, name’s Bella.”

“So he hides in the chantry with the women and children?” Kallian asked, somewhat skeptical.

Bella shook her head. “Locks himself up in the cellar here, all by himself.”

“Perhaps he is the only person in this town with some sense!” Morrigan pushed the ale away. “I’ve yet to see a reason we are still bothering with this lot. Half of these men wouldn’t know the sharp end of a sword if they were stabbed with it.” 

Maybe not. But the farmers were strong, so that counted for something. Besides- “Free ale helps.”

Giggling in delight at the roll of Morrigan’s eyes, Kallian hopped off her seat to go order them some food. Hopping however, had her back protesting loudly at her and she minced her steps until the shift of her hips and the impact of foot to floor no longer sent spikes of pain up her spine. 

The man tending to the bar was greasy as they came, as round a man as Kallian had ever seen.

“Lloyd, I take it?”

He nodded, looking her over. “You one of them Grey Wardens?”

How bright. “Yeah. Could we get some food over there? We’ll need uh,” she listed off everyone in her head as she counted on her fingers. “Six? Six bowls. Oh and if you have any, er, bones left? For my mabari,” she explained, grinning.

He straightened up now much more interested. “Sure, sure. Bella!” He shouted for her, and her shoulders quaked in surprised. “Fix up these nice people with their stews. And don’t go spilling anything or-”

“It’ll be docked from my pay, I know,” Bella answered. 

“There’s a good lass,” he grinned, giving her rear a squeeze before sending her on her way. “Now,” Lloyd leaned on the bar counter to return his attention to Kallian. “Anything else I can get you? I’ve got supplies if you’re of need.”

“Do you,” she said flatly, her jaw set hard after watching Bella walk away. And it now made sense why Murdock called him a greedy pig.

He pulled out a locked wooden box, choosing from a ring of several keys, a tiny one to open it. Musky scents of herbs wafted towards her as he opened the lid and spun it around. Elfroot, dried and tied up into neat little bundles.

“Five silvers.”

“For the lot?” Kallian asked.

“Each.” He closed it again, locking it before sliding the box under the counter once more. “Elfroot is hard to come by around here after all.”

Yeah, probably because he single handedly grabbed all there was to make a profit. “Thanks,” she smiled sweetly nonetheless. “Just the food then.” She tossed the coppers on the bar and slouched back down at their table.

Leliana nudged her as soon as she sat down. “What do you think of that elf over there?” She shifted her eyes to the loner near the door.

“Hm?” Truthfully, she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone else. “I dunno. Seems like the rest of this lot.” Conversation was dimmed and most folks sat about mullig their thoughts over watery ale. 

“He looked a bit suspicious to me,” Leliana muttered beneath her breath, eyes on the table rather than the elf. 

“Remember our conversation on coincidence, warden,” Zevran said. “Perhaps a friendly chat, no?” 

“Really?” Sure, he was sitting alone, but Kallian didn’t see how that made him suspicious. Easier to keep to himself than be bothered by shems. Except... She narrowed her eyes at him. His leg was bouncing up and down, constantly looking over his shoulder. “Okay fine. I see your point.” 

Kallian smoothly slid into the seat across from the dark haired elf, noting how his shoulders lurched and eyes widened at being approached.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Not many elves around here, just curious who you are.” Kallian offered a disarming smile. “You fighting tonight?” She nodded at the quiver over his shoulder.

His mouth twisted. “Just passing through.”

Her eyebrow raised up. “People aren’t really passing through here. No one can leave without being attacked.”

He grunted, eyes on the table as he ignored her.

“O-kay,” she said, a bit at a loss of where to go from there.

Zevran slid into the seat next to the elf. “Berwick is it? You may want to answer the warden’s questions.”

Berwick’s eyes opened wide and his spine stiffened up straight. “I was waiting for my brother to meet me.”

“The truth would be appreciated,” Zevran advised.

Berwick hissed. “I was watching the castle,” he blurted. “That’s all I was told to do!”

She leaned back from the table, casting a questioning glance at Zevran. Why would the elf suddenly get loose lips around Zevran? “Told? By who?” she asked.

“I don’t know…” He shifted his gaze to the left and Zevran leaned in closer. “Ah-” He jumped, “Okay okay! It was a tall human bloke. Some lord or whoever.”

Kallian’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two elves. Did Berwick somehow know he was a Crow? “Zevran, what-?”

Zevran slid a paper across the table. It was torn along the bottom, just a scrap.

“Hey-” Berwick started.

“You are not in a position to be arguing, my friend,” said Zevran. “He is a spy. I think we can guess who he works for, though the letter does not say.”

She scanned the few lines of the note. “Watch for any changes? What does that mean? The undead? Who did this?”

“I don’t know! Really, I don’t,” he said to Zevran. “I don’t know anything! I haven’t been able to get a message out since the undead started coming.”

“So help fight them. Then you can  _ leave _ ,” Kallian said. “And no sending messages after either.”

Berwick nodded sharply, fear in his eyes before scampering out of the tavern.

Kallian turned back to Zevran. “What did you do? He wouldn’t say a word to me.”

He chuckled and held up a knife. “Sometimes persuasion is necessary, warden. Particularly when a man’s… delicates, are at risk.”

She laughed incredulously. “You did not! You pointed a knife at his dick?”

He nodded, a wicked smirk playing on his handsome features.

“I’mma have to remember that one, yeah? Maker.” 

“Happy to be of service.”

They weren’t any closer to figuring out who actually poisoned the Arl, and poison  _ was _ the running theory; more and more seemed to add up to it. Berwick arrived after the Arl ‘got sick’ and clearly it was Loghain who had him watching for whatever was to happen. Probably was waiting to see when the Arl died. 

Hopefully inside the castle held more answers, but for now they enjoyed a hot meal with a roof over their heads. 

Sten and Alistair poured into the tavern with several other villagers hoping to get in a meal (what might be their last, Kallian thought with a gulp). Alistair was red-faced and sweaty as he slid a chair over beside Kallian and sagged heavily down into his seat.

“Next time you want barrels of oil moved somewhere, it’s your turn,” he groaned dramatically.

“Me?” Kallian laughed. “Yeah if you wanted to be here waiting for the entire night maybe.” She poked Alistair’s bicep with a cheeky grin. “Your arms are as big as my head!”

Alistair poked her back. “Only because you’re the tiniest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Bet I could still beat you in an arm wrestling match,” she taunted.

“No you couldn’t,” he dismissed her easily.

“If Kallian says she can, then I think we should see this,” Leliana said, straightening in her seat. 

“Come on then, five coppers,” said Kallian, already shoving mugs and bowls away to clear a space on the table. “Switch spots with Zev.” She placed her right elbow on the table, hand open to clasp with Alistair’s now directly across from her.

“If you’re sure about this...” He wrapped his larger hand around hers.

“Shall I judge then?” Leliana stood and placed a hand over their clasped ones. “On my countdown then.

“’Tis such a childish game you all are participating in,” Morrigan sneered.

“3...2...1!”

Kallian immediately leaned forward, and blew a big gust of air in Alistair’s face making him flinch and she forced the back of his hand to slam down on the table. “I win!” She cackled at the shocked look on Alistair’s face.

“You cheated!”

“Did I though? Not my fault you let yourself get distracted. I didn’t touch you, didn’t take my elbow off the table. What’s the ruling Leliana?” she asked, still sporting a wide grin.

“She didn’t technically cheat you know,” Leliana barely suppressed a grin.

“Dirty tricks,” Alistair argued. “Remind me not to bet against a rogue.” He was shaking his head as he dug out the owed coppers from the bet.

“Good advice for anyone really,” Zevran laughed in agreement.

Though their table was loud, the rest of the room was subdued, far from a rowdy night in a tavern. Conversation flowed between the patrons enough to create a background rumble, but one hardly had to shout to be heard.

Yet someone was being rowdy enough to Kallian’s dislike.

“Don’t you drop another tray, now get moving,” Lloyd hollered at Bella again, punctuated with a smack to her rear.

Bella ducked her head, lips drawn in a thin line, and tucked a strand of ginger hair- short like Shianni’s - behind her ear. Her eyes remained cast downwards as she hurried to follow his orders - and get away from his wandering hands. 

Kallian glared at Lloyd, disgust written plainly over her features. “Alright!” She placed both palms on the table, standing up. “Who wants to see this son of a bitch learn a lesson?”

“Wait… what are you about to do, Kal? We don’t need any trouble,” Alistair said, briefly grabbing her arm.

“I’m not the one making trouble, I’m stopping the trouble,” she said, slinking over to the bar again. 

“Everything to your liking, warden?” Lloyd asked with a slimy grin on his round face.

“Actually I was hoping to get some of that elfroot after all,” she said. Kallian didn’t really have a plan here, but she wanted to take his shit. So when once again that keyring filled with keys came into sight as he unlocked the wooden case again, ideas started brewing. 

“Like I said, five silvers apiece,” he told her, palms splayed on the bartop. “Maybe for a little something extra I can give you a discount, eh?” Lloyd laughed lecherously. 

Pulling a small knife from her belt, Kallian didn’t think, she drove the blade down into his hand.

Lloyd shouted as blood dripped out from the wound, arm stiffening up. “Get your blade out of my hand you bloody knife ear,” he growled, drawing attention already of those nearby.

“Keep your dirty hands off Bella,” she countered, venom dripping off of every word.

“I’ll throw you out, I will,” he said weakly, wincing as more blood seeped from his hand.

“Put your keys on the counter. Give them to Bella. You’ll join the fight with us and she’ll keep watch over your tavern tonight.” 

“Fine, fine,” with a shaking hand Lloyd took the key ring out of his pocket, and slid them over to a white-faced Bella, who stood at the edge of the bar watching the whole scene go down. The tavern had quieted as they watched the standoff and Lloyd’s face reddened. “Go back to your bloody business why don’t you,” he hollered so that most patrons hurriedly turned their heads. 

No one wanted to mess with the warden who was there to help defend their town. Not when Lloyd was the bastard that hid away each night. 

Kallian yanked the knife back upwards and he pulled away quickly, cradling his injured hand and heading into a back room to tend to it.

Satisfied with the outcome, she smiled with a dangerous glint in her eyes and nodded to herself before swiftly returning the knife to its sheath. “Find me after the battle,” Kallian said to Bella. “Maybe with some coin you could get further North… Denerim maybe? With the Blight and all, there’s no reason to stay here working for his ass.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The only way this would be better were if...

She snatched the box of elfroot while he had his back turned to lock up the casks again. Luckily Lloyd was already too shook up that he didn’t notice the missing box - and probably wouldn’t until tomorrow. 

Collateral. Or something like that. 

“ _ What... _ was that?” was the first thing Alistair said upon seeing her sly grin and the box in her hands.

She waved a hand. “It’s fine. His hand will be fine and he said he’ll fight tonight.” Assuming that all that elfroot he had stored up meant he had enough healing supplies for himself too - yeah, of course he would. “Here.” She slid the box towards Morrigan. “Do you have enough time to make anything with the elfroot in here?”

Morrigan nodded. “I shall see what I can do.”

Kallian made quick work of the little locked box. Honestly if none of them had been able to pick it open, Alistair probably could have just broken the thing apart. 

“What do you mean his hand, Kal, what did you do?” Alistair repeated the question, looking back and forth between her and the empty bar. 

“I was… making a business uh... proposition?” 

“Oh I see,” Leliana said, “is that what you call it?”

Kallian’s wide brown eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Fucking deserved that shit too.”

From the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw the corners of Zevran’s mouth turn up just a bit in a smile.

They finished their food and drink, and before long everyone was solemnly filing out into the street. The grey covering the sky did not hide the pinkish glow coming from the setting sun. 

Bann Teagan gathered the villagers around the outside of the chantry, directing groups of people to their posts. 

“Warden, from where do you plan to make your stand?” Teagan waved to her when he saw their group approaching.

“Better the seasoned fighters take on the bulk of them right?” As if she was a seasoned anything. “We’re gonna block the way across the bridge with fire so that should slow them down up that way. Can you spare some knights to fight with us?” 

The Bann nodded, a finger and thumb on his chin in thoughtful consideration. “Fire, yes that could work. They come up from the water too, the nasty things. I’ll split the knights between the two fronts. Hopefully it will be enough.”

In the end Kallian sent Morrigan and Zevran to be backup for the less experienced villagers down in the valley. The group confronting the bridge was joined by a group of mercenaries who would only be persuaded to fight for coin - fair enough, they were mercs after all.

A horn sounded and shouts rose up as sure enough, when the sun dipped below the horizon, a wave of cold fog started rolling out from the castle, and along with the mist, the raised dead. 

“Aim for their heads,” Kallian warned everyone again. “Leliana, the fire!”

Leliana raised her bow, taking only a moment to aim and let loose a burning arrow. The oil caught fire, flames licking along the path they had made with the barrels and the first of the corpses stumbled into it. 

The archers took the first few corpses down with ease. As the fire burned up their bodies, more undead stumbled and fell. 

But that was only the beginning. Larger numbers than they had seen earlier at the castle poured forth. Any that got caught tin flame and spiky barricades only provided a path for others to climb and crawl over. 

The melee fighters charged forward once the first started breaking past the barricades. Kallian’s fingers itched to sink her daggers into the things. 

When she couldn’t get a clear swipe at their heads, she dodged, kicked them off balance, or fell back only to find a different target. Her back ached with the exertion, but adrenaline pushed her through the pain. She lost herself in the flow of battle. Stab. One at her feet. Follow through and another on the ground but not yet down for good. Smoke stung every panted breath and the fire all around them burned at her face while sweat soaked her back. Everywhere she looked she was met with hollow rotten faces lumbering towards her.

“Fall back, Kallian!” Alistair shouted form somewhere far behind.

Alarmed, she whirled around, somehow having found herself in the middle of the sea of undead. Bloodshot and yellowed eyes stared her down out of hollowed sockets.

From the side a shield rammed into her head, knocking Kallian across the ground, gravel and rocks cutting her skin. Her lips split open and hot metallic blood spilled into her mouth. Ringing filled her ears and her vision doubled as she lay dazed on the ground, feeling like her head was splitting open - for all she knew, it was. 

With a roar, the closest warrior slashed a path through to her, and forced a bottle of elfroot potion to her lips. Bitter liquid poured down her throat and her eyes refocused. Back to back they hacked away at everything that came near them until nothing but a circle of unmoving bodies lay around them. 

Sten, too, left a wake of torn apart corpses behind him. Head wrought from body, limb from limb. A crawler slowly dragged itself towards the qunari and Sten stomped on the head with a booted foot - brain matter spewing out from beneath. 

Shouts of victor erupted from the men around them when the last of the monsters fell.

“Thanks,” Kallian said to the bloody-faced soldier.

“Alright Kal?” he asked.

“Alistair?” Beneath the mask of blood was her fellow grey warden. “Are  _ you _ alright?” 

“Blood’s not - not mine,” he gulped, shaking his head, mouth clamping closed. He wiped a forearm across his face, walked a few paces away, then lost the struggle, leaning over to spatter the ground with vomit.

“Shit, Alistair!” 

“S’fine,” he groaned. Beneath the gore smeared on his face, his bright eyes had turned haunted. “I knew them,” he said morosely. “Their faces… Maker.” He scrubbed his own face again, only managing to smear blood around his cheeks. “She used to give me bread… Always smiled and told me to be - to be a good lad.”

“Oh.” A pang of sympathy went through Kallian. He was seeing ghosts - twisted monstrosities of what the people once were. “They’re already dead, Alistair,” she said quietly. They had to help the living.

“They’re coming from the lake!” A panicked young man came scrambling up the hill. 

“Onward! To the village!” Ser Perth rallied. “My men can hold the line here.”

Kallian rolled her shoulders and twisted her neck back and forth, panting heavily. She shared a look with Alistair.

He nodded, shouldering his shield. “We have to help them.”

They half jogged down the hill, sliding along the gravel to catch up with the second team guarding the chantry. 

A whoosh, followed by a loud boom thundered in her eardrums. Kallian had to shield her eyes from the sudden brilliant orange against the dark night sky. Fire exploded outwards across the landscape below, blinding everyone for but a brief moment. Shrieks echoed upwards.

“Shit,” said Kallian, hurrying now.

Swarms of the monsters rose out of the lake like demons straight out of the void. Wounded men were pulled back against the doors of the chantry, their numbers dwindling.

The fireball Morrigan had just unleashed roasted dozens of the corpses, but where one fell, two more took their place. The witch stood on the hill to observe the battle below. Her hands were outstretched, pulling together enough magic that Kallian’s hairs stood on end and the very air seemed to crackle around her. 

In a flash, she became a snarling wolf, nearly the size of Fang, and leapt down to join the attack, leading the charge with Fang running behind. 

Every man was surrounded by at least two corpses, those already wounded were being pulled back to the shelter of the Chantry, but not allowed in behind the barricaded door. Screams and shouts joined the cacophony of clanking armour and steel ringing against steel. 

Kallian never had a chance to catch her breath - running from one end of the pit to the next, taking every opportunistic strike she could. Loose strands of hair stuck to her face, glued by sweat and blood. Some of the blood her own, and much more of it sprayed out from the enemies she took down with vicious stabs.

Yet another corpse lunged at her, and as she stepped back, she tripped and landed backwards on her ass. Over a body - Lloyd. 

Laughter sounded above the chaos, maniacal in nature. Spattered with blood and firelight glittering in his eyes, Zevran appeared and held a hand out to pick her off the ground. 

He opened his mouth to speak then clamped it shut and abruptly pulled Kallian away from a pair of arrows. They landed in the dirt near where her legs had just been.

“Somebody help Murdock!” A man cried.

“To the mayor, fall back!” 

Kallian motioned forwards, and Zevran nodded, his eyes darting around constantly - hyper aware of the battlefield.

Not two steps further did Kallian let loose a howl as pain ripped through the side of her thigh, the muscle seized and her right leg gave out. She fell to her knees, blindly reaching for the arrow she could feel sunk into her flesh. Her fingers grazed the wooden shaft and she whimpered as the barest touched moved the arrowhead embedded in her muscle.

“Warden!” Zevran turned around, alarmed. His sword ripped through the arm of another foe lunging towards Kallian, the entire thing hacked off. He crossed sword and dagger, scissoring them together to slice off the monster’s head. 

Her hand closed around the arrow, knuckles white as she trembled.

“Don’t!” Zevran hissed. “Foolish warden,” he grunted, pulling Kallian’s arm over his shoulder to get her up on her feet again. “Taking the arrow out so you can bleed out in the middle of the battlefield, mm?” He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

Kallian groaned, limping slowly with her left leg. Any movement, even the dragging of her toe against a rock sent spikes of pain through her right thigh as the arrow shifted. “Better to - to bleed out on the chantry doorstep then,” she said weakly, as Zevran helped her down on the front steps, her weapons clattering to the ground. 

“Better to let me take it out for you where we are not surrounded by the undead,” Zevran corrected with an amused scoff. 

“No more potions,” Kallian told him between laboured breaths.

“Then this will hurt a little more,” his brow furrowed.

Her shaking hands hovered around the wound, pale against the blood leaking from her leg. “Take it out,” she gasped. “I can take it.”

He smiled warmly. “But of course, the Grey Wardens’ strength and stamina is legendary. Nevertheless…” Zevran pulled off his leather belt, removed a few vials and folded it in half before handing it to her. “Bite down - hard.”

“Fuck,” she moaned, but did as he said, the leather digging into the corners of her mouth, salty taste on her tongue. Kallian screwed her eyes tightly closed, and looked away, fists clenching as she nodded for him to start. 

Briefly she marveled that it was the assassin come to her aid of all people.

All thoughts fled her mind when a single finger pushed down into the wound, and Kallian’s eyes rolled back as she screamed. Her body went rigid as he slowly - agonizingly slow - felt for the arrowhead, following the shaft down into the muscle tissue. 

“Almost there,” he muttered.

She slammed her head back against the wall, and let loose a gutteral groan as he held the wound open with two more fingers, and pulled the arrow out with slow precision. Sweat and tears poured down her face, stinging her eyes. Her jaw hurt from clenching so hard. Kallian shuddered, and her eyes rolled open, watching with a strange detached interest as blood poured more quickly from the arrow shaped hole in her leg, more blood,  _ her _ blood, sticky on Zevran’s hands. 

“Still with me?” he asked, chuckling lightly. “Many people pass out. There would be no shame in passing out of course, but still, I am ever impressed.” With deft fingers, he threaded a needle. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Shall I continue?”

Kallian spat out the belt, tiredly wiping her mouth. “But if you left me here to bleed, tah-dah, contract done.” 

Something passed over his golden-eyed gaze, but Kallian was too out of it to catch the meaning of the look. Zevran shook his head. “Hardly. Look how sloppy this shot is - even right now this is proof you could recover from such an injury. I would bring shame to my house, if the Crows even believed this was my work to begin with.” He pulled out a rag from another pocket, wiping away blood from the area to be stitched. “No, if I were to make an attempt, it would have much more finesse - poison perhaps? Something quick.”

For a moment, despite the heat and sweat, her blood ran cold. So callously talking about her own death to the assassin sent to kill her. She was helpless now, her daggers lay out of arm’s reach, and unable to run away. He’d cornered her. Could make it look like she fell in battle and be gone before morning. She saw her own wide-eyed gaze reflected in Zevran’s black pupils.

“A joke, my warden,” he reassured her quickly, worry creasing his eyes. “Rather poorly timed… I happen to be a very loyal person. And I made an oath, yes?” He busied his hands again. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, back to your handsome loyal assassin saving your life.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle when he pinched the wound closed, movements sure and steady. There was pain, yes, the needle hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing compared to when the same fingers were digging around the hole for the arrow. 

He tied off the thread cut the end short, nodding at his handiwork. Zevran shot her a cheeky grin. “You know, when I dreamed of touching your thighs, this is not exactly what I had in mind.” 

A flutter in her chest that she passed off as merely a tremble from loss of blood. It must have been the blood loss that had her saying, “What? A girl covered in blood not your fancy?”

Zevran’s amber eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled - crow’s feet on the crow, how fitting. “Mmm, not just any girl, no.” He patted her knee. “Only a deadly sex goddess such as yourself could make blood look so alluring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to any Canadian readers! (are there any fellow Canadians here? - enjoy a chapter with your turkey :P) 
> 
> Chat with me in the comments as always and share some love <3


	12. The Arl of Redcliffe

At the lightest touch, Kallian’s eyes snapped open, certain that she had just been on the edge of sleep. 

“What the-” she started in with a growl before realizing dawn’s light shone out from behind Leliana’s form. “Wha’time is it.”

“That’s it? No cursing? I was ready to duck from a punch,” said Leliana. “Bann Teagan is about to give a speech.”

“Too tired to bother,” Kallian muttered. Her limbs were heavy, and her leg throbbed with every slow beat of her heart. Stretching only aggravated the wound in her leg and Leliana had to help her to stand and pitifully limp towards the Chantry door.

Fighting had lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and it was only once no dead lingered that the Chantry was finally unbarred and the survivors ushered inside to catch some sleep. Now only a few men still lay asleep, some wounded being tended to by the couple of chantry sisters still inside. As for the rest - they must have cleared out, to celebrate as Leliana said. 

Now it only meant that Kallian and the rest had to get into the castle before the undead army could amass once more. 

“And she lives,” Zevran said as he held the door open so she and Leliana could get through. “Thanks to my incredible work no less,” he chirped, oddly bright for no sleep and an early morning. 

“Modest, aren’t you,” Leliana teased.

Kallian gave him a half smile and tried to stand up a little straighter when she realized the rest of the villagers were gathering at the foot of the chantry steps as Bann Teagan held his arms out in welcome.

Kallian zoned out while Teagan spoke of loss and victory and some other noble shit about the final push to rescue their precious Arl. 

Alistair nudged Kallian’s back.

“Ow,” she hissed as she took a step forward away from his prodding finger.

“Thank you, Bann Teagan,” it was fortunate we were able to help in time.

“The Maker smiled upon us when he sent the wardens to us in our time of need. And now we have our chance to storm the castle and defeat this evil once and for all!”

The crowd cheered then the Chantry Mother stepped forward, lowering her hands to hush them and lead everyone in a prayer for the fallen.

The crowd dispersed, and Kallian, waking up at bit more noticed a party member was missing. “Where’d Morrigan go? Off being a creepy swamp dweller away from all the scary civilization?”

Alistair snickered with her. It wasn’t particularly clever but the witch wasn’t around to hear it.

“Actually, she flew out of the city to find you some elfroot for that wound,” Leliana told her, grimacing as she glanced at the roughly stitched wound.

Kallian too, spared a glance down at her thigh. It wasn’t pretty. Her skin puckered together where Zevran had pulled the hole closed, and it was a mess of scabbing. “What?” She quirked a brow. “I was jealous, I wanted one just like yours,” she said, referring to Leliana’s shoulder. 

Leliana rolled her eyes up with a smile. “You can’t expect to go infiltrate the castle on that leg of yours though.”

“You won’t carry me?”

Morrigan returned in a blur shifting from bird to human and Kallian was able to walk without help thanks to the precious healing herbs.

That didn’t stop her tired goans as they hiked back up the damned hill to meet up with Teagan and the knights to plan the invasion of the castle. 

Kallian tilted her head back, letting out a long overdramatic groan that shook with every footfall on the earth. Until both Alistair and Morrigan turned and gave her a look.

“If you’re just going to act a child, perhaps I ought to have left you behind with your injury,” Morrigan said.

“Raise your hand if you’d rather leave  _ Morrigan _ behind,” Kallian countered with a grin.

Alistair’s hand shot up along with her own and Morrigan bristled. Kallian cackled.

“If we are going to be dealing with a demon, I think it might be best she came along,” Leliana spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah, I was only joking,” Kallian replied. The playful smirk still hadn’t left her face. “Come on, gotta have something to laugh at.”

“I agree,” Morrigan said airily. “Is that not the reason we keep the fool around?”

“Hey!” Alistair whined.

“Good, you’re here,” the Bann interrupted the stream of immature bickering. “I want to get moving as soon as possible, while we still have an advantage. Now, I think we should split -”

“Teagan! Oh Teagan,” a woman sobbed, running down the hill from the bridge. Pale hands clutched pristine skirts, holding them above the muddy ground.

“Isolde?” Teagan gasped. “How did you get away? What’s happened to my brother? Is Eamon okay?”

“It is demons!” Her shrill voice grated on Kallian’s ears. “Oh Teagan, it is ‘orrible. You must come with me to the castle!”

“Demons? How does a demon get in a castle?” Kallian asked. Morrigan had already guessed as much last night, but why?

Isolde frowned and her nostrils turned up as though she’d caught whiff of fresh Mabari droppings. “Who iz dis whuman, Teagan?” she sneered, Orlesian accent thickening along with her disapproval. 

Before the corners of Kallian’s lips so much as twitched, Alistair stepped slightly ahead of her with a timid hand raised.

“You remember me, Isolde.”

“Alistair?” Her nose turned up and she downright glared at Teagan. “What is he doing here?”

“Lady Isolde, he and his fellow Grey Warden have been helping us defend the village, we wouldn’t have made it last night without them.”

This was the woman who had essentially banished Alistair from the only home he’d ever known. And she was Orlesian. Kallian instantly disliked her and her lips twisted downwards as if she’d just tasted something particularly unpleasant. 

“How are you alive? Is Arl Eamon alright?” Alistair asked.

Isolde answered the question without so much as acknowledging him. “Oh Teagan, you must come help. I was only able to get away if I promised to bring you back. Connor needs you.”

“What is going on up there. What do you mean able to get away?” Teagan pressed.

Isolde ran her hands down her face and clutched at her immaculate pink skirt. “It is a demon! For now it lets us live but… I do not know how much longer we have. Please you must come!”

Isolde was barely looking anyone in the eyes; it wasn’t just Alistair she had avoided. Her lips were a thin line.

And she never once answered what had happened to the Arl. 

“How does a demon end up in Redcliffe castle? A demon that suddenly wants Teagan to join everyone else at the castle? How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Kallian voiced her suspicions.

“You  _ dare _ ,” Isolde snapped and took an unwavering step towards Kallian. “You insolent little elf. Were you one of my servants I-”

“I’m  _ not _ . I’m a grey warden. Here to help your sorr-”

“Isolde, we just want to help,” Alistair cut off Kallian before she could insult the noble and she glared at him. “If there’s a demon in there and Eamon is at risk, you have to let us come!”

“I- I can’t. It will only allow Teagan or it will hurt Connor.” Her lower lip quivered.

The Bann nodded gracefully. “Very well Isolde. I will come. Just give me a moment with the wardens and I’ll follow you back.” He ushered Kallian and Alistair towards the lone windmill. “I will go with her, and then you and your companions can get in through the secret tunnel - through there.” He pointed at the entrance to the mill.

“Secret- of bloody course. You couldn’t have told us before when I wanted to go  _ yesterday _ .”

“What’s done is done,” said Teagan. “I needed to guarantee you would help the village. The people are my biggest priority and you would have just left them to fend for themselves.”

“Not if we stopped the next attack before it could happen” Kallian argued.

“I did what I believed was right for them.”

Kallian crossed her arms, annoyed that he had a point. She couldn’t begrudge him for actually giving an shit about the people in Redcliffe village. 

“Alright then, so we go in the back so the demon… or whatever… won’t know.”

Teagan passed a heavy set ring to Alistair, holding it to show the insignia engraved on top. “This is a key to the secret passage. Find the trapdoor and follow the tunnels into the basement of the castle. Once you’re in, you can open the gates to let our soldiers in too. I know not what we face, but if a demon is involved, we best be prepared.”

“I knew he was lying about getting into the castle,” Kallian grumbled as they assembled everyone to get ready for the infiltration. “There’s always a bloody servants entrance, a secret tunnel - whatever!”

One by one they dropped down into the damp, cool cavern that formed the tunnel beneath Lake Calenhad. 

Zevran, apparently never to be brought down by anything, chuckled as he looked around. “Yes I’ve always found that exit tunnels make rather convenient  _ entrance _ tunnels, no?”

He continued snickering to himself when Kallian raised her eyebrows at him. 

“So how do we fight a demon, Morrigan?” Kallian asked the witch who was trailing not too far behind Alistair. 

“A demon who has crossed the veil is fought much the same way you would fight any other creature. They can be killed. Not so easy as a mere man, but magic and swords will do the job.”

Kallian nodded. “Well…” She glanced up and around her, preoccupied by the sudden narrowing of the tunnel so they had to move single file. The air felt…  _ heavier _ . Under the lake. Her heart thumped erratically. “Good… that’s uh, good.” 

The tunnel surely wasn’t that much longer, surely not much further to go. She walked faster, breathing heavier. “Come on…” she muttered. It was pure darkness ahead. No sign of the end. 

“Hey slow down, you’re losing the others,” Alistair joked, keeping up easily with her quickened pace on his longer legs. 

“You heard Isolde. Demons and shit. Can’t really waste more time, can we?” she said curtly. 

The floor sloped upwards and Kallian exhaled loudly. The long moments of dark damp, narrow tunnels had stretched out before her seemingly endless. The slope became stairs and another hatch led the group up and out of the tunnel into the blackness of a dungeon.

“Cute,” Kallian wrinkled her nose at the pervasive rot smell of the stone halls. 

Rats scurried across the ground, making Kallian’s skin crawl as various rustling sounds echoed through the room. Her shoulders hiked up to her ears as she stiffly held a torch up to lead onwards.

“No need to fear a few rats, Kallian,” Leliana nudged her shoulder, grabbing another torch off the wall to light it form Kallian’s. 

“I’m not afraid. I’m just being… bloody alert.” The dungeon set her off. The cloying smell of things that had been left to die down here combined with musty air and rows and rows of iron bars. There was a hopelessness to it all.

“Come on,” she brushed off the nagging feelings of alarm and marched forward with indignant determination. 

The cells were empty, thankfully. She wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t stop and try and pick the locks to free them if she saw some of Isolde’s elves locked up down here. And she didn’t doubt the Orlesian lady would lock up servants for every minor indescretion. 

Around a corner they heard the first sign of life beyond the many rats inhabiting the dungeon. A voice whimpering and sniffling beckoned them forward. No guards in sight. Had the demon offed them all?

Clattering of metal grating along rock came suddenly from behind and Sten, taking up the rear, roared and wung his greatsword in an arc and the clattering stopped. Then it started again more from behind and again further up.

Kallian and Alistair wheeled around on their heels, to see Sten and Zevran who were combatting more undead.

That’s what happened to the guards then.

“Help! Please! Anybody!”

At the end of the corridor the undead guards were stumbling towards a cell.

Without prompting, Alistair followed Kallian forward and their blades drove home, severing spines while heads rolled to the dusty floor.

“Oh thank the Maker,” the imprisoned man gasped. A pale face hid behind a mass of dark hair, cowered at the back of the cell. “I thought they’d left me to die down here.”

Her first instinct was to start unlocking the cell door. But she stopped a hand from lifting long enough to ask a clarifying question.

“Who are you?”

The man shuffled to the door, letting his face come a bit more into the light. His cheeks were gaunt and eyes hollow. “My name is Jowan.” He gripped the bars of the door with white knuckles. “I’m an apostate hired by Lady Isolde to tutor her son Connor… That is until I ended up here…”

Jowan hung his head in a picture of perfect misery. 

“Wait, an apostate? The undead? Is this all your fault? That’s why you’re in the dungeon?” Kallian rattled off her questions one after another.

“It wasn’t me! I got locked up before all this started. Not that Isolde would believe me. She even had me tortured!” 

“So why  _ did _ you get locked up?”

“I - I poisoned the Arl. That’s why she had me imprisoned down here. I’ve made a mess of everything!” he bemoaned.

“You? Why?”

“I thought I was helping my country. The templars caught me after I escaped the circle, and they were going to have me executed in Denerim. But Teyrn Loghain offered me a chance to redeem myself. ”

Kallian frowned. Poison, just like she and Zevran had started to guess, but he wasn’t really the image of the dastardly  _ assassin _ she’d imagined. She’d imagined someone more like… well,  _ Zevran _ , to be at the center of this. 

“Loghain himself asked you to poison Arl Eamon?” she asked.

“Yes.” Jowan hung his head, mop of hair flopping forward to hide his face. “He said if I did this that he would sort things out with the circle for me. You see I’m… a Maleficar, a  _ blood mage _ . And now he’s gone and abandoned me, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah kinda looks that way,” Kallian snarked at him. 

“A blood mage? Him, really? I never would have guessed,” Morrigan interjected, sounding oddly interested.

“A blood mage?” Alistair hissed in response. “Just what we need on top of the rest of this mess.”

“But if you poisoned the Arl, what’s going on with all these undead? You mentioned… Connor was it?”

“Isolde was looking for an apostate to train him once he started showing ‘signs’ but it can’t be him! I only started teaching him. He can barely cast the most basic minor spells.”

“I can’t believe Connor is a mage. Really?” Alistair wondered aloud.

“Not really the point here, mate,” Kallian sighed and dragged fingers through her hair. 

“I can help you!” Jowan begged. “Let me out and I’ll try to make this right!”

“At the very least you could let him go,” Morrigan said. “What good is it to leave the poor man locked up like an animal down here?”

“Yes, let the  _ blood mage _ go free. Brilliant idea, why didn’t I think of that?” Alistair sniped.

“You can take the boy out of the Chantry but you can’t take the templar out of the boy, it seems.” Morrigan crossed her arms.

“Please, don’t leave me here to die!”

Kallian wasn’t sure that they needed Jowan’s help. He didn’t know what was going on anymore than they did when it came to the magic, and that’s what they had Morrigan for, wasn’t it? But if it turned out he was lying about anything…

“Just, stay here for now, and we’ll deal with you once we find the Arl and Bann Teagan. I mean, you’ll be safe enough in your cell…” Kallian’s mouth twisted to one side as she shrugged. 

“You don’t think this is because of a kid, do you?” Kallian asked Alistair once they were out of Jowan’s earshot. “I’ve heard magic is powerful, and dangerous when it’s out of control, but still, a kid?”

“It’s worrying to think,” he said. Then checked his sword was clear in its scabbard. “I’m more concerned about the blood mage though. Where there’s blood magic, there’s trouble. We should hurry.”

But they barely made it through the corridor upstairs without Alistair, Kallian, and Zevran walking out of it with blood and gore streaked across their faces and bodies. Sten ripped apart several of the walking dead with his two handed sword and bits of bodies sprayed everywhere when Alistair shattered the ice statues Morrigan created.

“This is disgusting. I feel something dripping down my back,” Kallian grumbled. 

Zevran spat and removed a single unsoiled cloth from a pocket to wipe down his daggers before putting them away. “Nothing like a good blood shower to wake you up in the morning.”

Kallian shot him a mean side eye. How was he smiling right now? She didn’t even have a witty retort.

Her mood was sour from lack of sleep but her senses were on high alert. Sleep deprivation didn’t seem to have affected her abiliity to fight. Her reflexes were fast as ever, blood rushing through her veins and turning into swift thrusts of her blades. It was as though the fighting all night never happened.

There wasn’t much time to revel in her sense of power, as with every room they crossed, more shambling corpses attacked. One thing was becoming pretty clear.

“Is there no one left alive?” Alistair voiced the thought all were dawning on.

The dungeons, kitchens, dining hall, kennels - no signs of the living.

“Have faith Alistair, we will find survivors,” Leliana offered after too long a silence.

“That or someone is gonna have to tell the blacksmith his daughter didn’t make it,” Kallian said flatly.

They’d already passed through the servants’ quarters and were heading to the upper levels. All that remained were the chambers for the family and visiting lords and ladies, extravagant halls, various armouries filled with fancy ceremonial swords and shields that never saw use. The trail of bodies behind them didn’t paint a hopeful picture but servants usually did know all the nooks and crannies of the castle. Maybe Valena’s hiding place was so good that even they hadn’t found her.

“This way,” Alistair called them, stony faced.

He opened the door and paused, for swarming the courtyard ahead were the remains of the guard. They ambled about without purpose but Kallian knew as soon as they made themselves known, every corpse would come at them with weapons bared.

“I'm fast. I can run to the gates and turn the crank if you all keep them off of me,” Kallian suggested. 

Alistair nodded, staring warily out at the numbers ahead. They would be better off getting the knights in despite the risk.

When Alistair hefted his sword up and ran shield-first into the first corpse, Kallian made a beeline straight for the crank. 

Her shoulders and arms strained to get through the first rotation. She grunted and put her back into it, momentum carrying the crank fast and faster around until the gate was lifted enough for Redcliffe's knights to storm through.

A blow to the back knocked Kallian to the ground and the wind from her lungs. 

Ser Perth stretched a hand out, shield up to protect them both from a sudden onslaught of arrows. 

She caught her breath, a nod of thanks to Ser Perth and then she threw herself into the fray. 

An armoured fist drew blood from her lip and she in turn struck deep into dead flesh, ripping her dagger out to a spray of blood across her face. Alistair bashed two more down with his shield in rapid succession and Kallian leapt, a knee to the throat as she slammed her blade into yet another skull. 

The clashing or armour and blades quieted and Kallian looked around, still straddled on the chest of the now dead - for good hopefully - castle guard. Her shoulders slumped and she wiped an arm down her face, smearing blood droplets down her cheek.

“The main hall is through there,” said Ser Perth. “Shall we stay here or would you like us to escort your group the rest of the way?”

She pushed herself up with a hand on her knee. “Stay here in case there’s more undead lurking around. We’ll be fine.” 

Her daggers were disgusting and she tried wiping them off on her leg, only to smear more gore on them. “Fucking, shit,” she muttered. “Come on then,” she stomped towards the heavy doors, still smearing blood back and forth her weapon in a futile attempt to keep them close to something resembling good condition.

“A rag, my warden?” Zevran appeared suddenly at her side, offering a slightly stained cloth. 

She took it without a word, and scrubbed down her weapons a bit more, not putting them away now that they were inside. Kallian didn’t doubt there’d be more fighting yet ahead.

Boyish chuckles bounced off the walls in a ghostly manner.

“-the fuck…” Kallian whispered. The hairs on her neck stood on end and she raised both daggers as she dropped her center of gravity, certain they were about to be ambushed.

“Please!” Isolde begged, her hands clasped together at the front of the hall.

Kallian pulled up to a stop and her hands fell to her sides in abrupt confusion.

Bann Teagan danced across the room, then dropped to the floor, rolling head over heels and then back to walk on his hands like a street performer. He laughed and clapped his hands, a goofy smile plastered unnaturally on his face.

While Connor stood on the dais with arms crossed.

“Enough!” He pointed right at Kallian, squinting with dark circles under his eyes. “These are the ones you told me about, mother?” His voice rumbled with the same low timbre layered beneath the boyish pitch.

_ Possessed. _

Isolde turned a shade whiter. “Y-yes Connor.”

“The ones who defeated my army and stopped me from reclaiming  _ my _ village?”

“Yes…” Isolde bowed her head, wringing her hands.

“This one is staring at me, Mother. What is it?” 

“Th-that’s an elf Connor. You’ve seen them before. We have them here in the castle.”

Connor’s eyes lit up and a malicious grin stretched across his face. “Ah! I remember! I had all their ears cut off and fed to the dogs!” 

Kallian’s hand reflexively covered her pointed ear and all the breath left her lungs at once.

He cackled. “They chewed for hours! Shall I send it to the kennels like the others, mother?” 

Bile rose up the back of Kallian’s throat and she swallowed thickly. Dread crawled up her legs and made her knees weak.

Alistair stepped a foot in front of her.

“No, Connor. Please, don’t hurt anyone!” Isolde cried tearfully.

_ Besides the untold numbers he already hurt? _ Kallian couldn’t seem to speak.

Connor put his face in his hands and shook his head back and forth. “Mother?” The young boy’s scared voice broke through. “What’s happening? Where am I?”

She fell to her knees in front of him. “Oh Connor. Thank the Maker! It’s me, I’m here!”

He backhanded her across the cheek. “Get away from me foolish woman! You are beginning to bore me.”

“Maker, what’s happened here,” Alistair finally said.

“Wardens… It’s not his fault. This isn’t my Connor! It is that maleficar! He poisoned the Arl and he’s summoned a demon to destroy my family. It is his fault. Just don’t hurt my son, please,” Isolde’s voice trembled. “He only wanted his father to get well.”

“And he made a deal with a demon.” Morrigan shook her head, not reproachful for once, but sorrowful. “Foolish child.”

“It was a fair deal!” The demonic presence in Connor’s voice shook with anger. “Father is alive and I am free to send my armies to conquer the nations. No one will stop me!” He laughed again. “So why then, have you come here?”

“Hm, find the Arl, stop the undead and maybe stop you killing anyone else?” There was Kallian’s voice. 

“But father is so very ill. We really shouldn’t disturb him, should we mother?”

“I- I don’t… think.” Isolde looked up at them in panic.

“Of course you don’t! All this talk and no fun. I want some action. Make them pay for trying to save  _ my _ village!” Connor barked the orders and then ran away, as the soldiers and Teagan advanced towards Alistair.

“Don’t kill them!” Kallian warned. They weren’t enemies here.

As soon as she shouted, Teagan came barreling towards her with a sword up, and she flipped her dagger around, slamming the pommel into his temple so he dropped like a rock.

The other three guards soon fell to Morrigan’s woven sleep spell.

“Where did Connor go?” Kallian asked as soon as the fighting stopped. He was just a child, but a demon was playing around in his head. And he was dangerous.

Isolde stood in front of her. “Please don’t hurt my son. None of this is his fault.”

Kallian chewed the inside of her cheek. Isolde kept it all secret, and she couldn’t help but feel she  _ let _ this happen.

“Wh- Isolde. What happened?” Teagan came to, holding his head.

“Oh, Maker, Teagan. You’re alright. I don’t know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt after I made you come in here.” She put her face in her hands. “There has to be some way to save my son. Please.”

Demons and possession? Kallian didn’t know shit. She turned to Alistair. “What can we do?” She had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“He invited a demon in, sundered the veil. What more is there to do?” Morrigan said bluntly.

“But you saw him. He is not always the demon. My Connor is still in there, he broke through!”

“And all this time you were hiding it. While the village was slaughtered,” Kallian said hotly.

“I had to protect my boy.”

Teagan shook his head. “And you invited a mage in, trying to protect him. That’s what started this whole mess, Isolde.”

“Eamon would have insisted we take him to the circle. I couldn’t lose my only son. I couldn’t send him away! If he could just learn enough to hide it…” said Isolde. 

“Alistair…” Kallian whispered.

“I know,” Alistair’s voice was soft, reluctant to speak the words. “The only way to stop a possession… is, I hate to say this, to kill the host.”

Kill a child? Kallian stared in the direction Connor had run. How could she?

“No,” she said, eyes going wide. “I can’t. He’s…”  _ Just a kid _ . They both knew that.

Alistair nodded gravely. His face paled and voice went hoarse, “I’ll do it then.”

“No, there has to be another way!” Isolde pleaded. “If the mage is still alive. Perhaps he has the answer!”

“Jowan? You want to involve him in this?” Kallian asked. “He’s still in the dungeon… But I guess if he was teaching Connor, maybe he knows what happened?”

“I’ll go fetch him,” said Teagan. 

“You would trust the blood mage?” Alistair asked.

“Well, I don’t know! Maybe he actually knows something so we don’t have to  _ murder a bloody child _ ,” Kallian hissed. She ran a blood stained hand back through her hair and grimaced as she felt the stickiness.

“I’m not suggesting… I just want you to think about what you’re doing,” said Alistair.

Jowan looked even more nervous when stood in front of Isolde again than he had when in the dungeons with the undead guards.

“You, what did you do to my son?” Isolde said shrilly. “ You must fix this!”

“I’m sorry this happened. But I didn’t cause this!” Jowan insisted. “However… I might be able to help. The demon has a hold on him in the Fade, it crept up on him while Connor dreamt. If a mage were to confront it there, we could break that tether.”

“ _ You _ would fight this demon?” Isolde asked.

“No, not me. I would have to do the ritual to send someone to the Fade. Normally it would require loads of lyrium, but, I can use blood magic.”

“Blood magic? You can’t be serious. Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Alistair immediately protested. 

He sounded like a bloody child. “Where is Connor now? Do we have time? How does the ritual work?” Kallian asked. 

“He must have run up to the family quarters. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he came back soon,” said Teagan.

Kallian looked at Jowan expectantly. If they didn’t have to murder a damn kid, she would take the other option.

“It would require a blood sacrifice to match the amount of lyrium it would normally take to send a mage to the Fade… It’s not a great option. I really shouldn’t have brought it up at all.”

“I will do it,” Isolde lost the shake in her voice for the first time that day.

“You will?” Kallian asked, stunned.

“If it is the way to save my child, I will do whatever it takes. Just save him, warden.”

Kallian turned back to Jowan. “How do we know you won’t just use your blood magic to control her? Or any of us?” She clenched her jaw. She’d heard stories of mind controlling mages. Not a risk free option either. 

Jowan’s face became more drawn. “I imagine you would cut me down where I stand. Believe me, I’d much rather live. I do want to help, I swear that’s all I want.”

Kallian didn’t have to think much longer. Connor couldn’t be blamed, really. It was Isolde that kept it all hushed up while her people died each night. Her blood for theirs, and for Connor’s life. Simple enough. Yet her heart was pounding harder now. “Then we’ll do it. Alistair,” she looked in his direction but didn’t meet his eyes, “watch him.”

Jowan nodded, casting an anxious look at the large ex-templar looming beside him. “And who am I sending to the Fade?”

“Morrigan will have to go,” Kallian answered. “She’s the only mage here.”

“Why thank you for asking my opinion in the matter,” Morrigan sniffed. “Very well, I am your willing slave.”

“Thank you,” Isolde said, “May the Maker go by your side.”

Morrigan scoffed. “I certainly hope not! That would be rather distracting.”

“What do you need of me?” Isolde said somberly.

“Someone needs to - er…” Jowan trailed off.

He needed Isolde’s blood. Kallian pulled out a knife and gathered Isolde’s wrists together without making eye contact. She let out a heavy breath, and no matter how much she breathed in, her chest didn’t have enough room for air. Her jaw set, she tightened her grip. “Ready?” she asked without emotion.

Isolde whispered. “Yes.”

Jowan gave Kallian a nod to go ahead.

_ Shit _ .

With a single, sure slash across each wrist, Isolde sank to the ground and Jowan pulled the blood from her wrists. It streamed sluggishly at first, then turned into a steady flow, oozing unnaturally away from her body. 

Alistair gripped the hilt of his sword and loomed over Jowan, ready to act should anything go awry.

At the same time, Morrigan slumped over from her seated position on the floor, eyes rolling back as Jowan worked his spell.

“What happens now?” Kallian asked. “How do we know the spell’s worked?”

“It worked.” His shoulders sagged. “The rest is up to her,” Jowan said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm back! Took a break for NaNo and then had to get back in the groove with this fic so here! tah-dah! Thank you to my beta and friend [Ray_Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) I love you! 
> 
> And I love all of you reading this!! Leave some lovin for me down in the comments <3


	13. Redcliffe Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been several months but I've come out of writer's hibernation to bring you a new chapter! 
> 
> We last left off with Kallian deciding to sacrifice Isolde with blood magic and sent Morrigan to the fade to save Connor. So let's see how this all turns out, shall we?

It worked.

The heaviness that pressed on the castle eased but all that was left was silence. While Teagan dealt with the body, Kallian and Alistair beckoned their group to split up and check the remainder of the rooms for any survivors. The dead did not rise.

A closet held a handful of scared servant girls - not an elf amongst them and Kallian asked, “Is Valena here? Has anyone seen Valena?”

“Th-that’s me,” a quivering girl around Kallian’s age answered. “Is it safe to leave?”

Kallian nodded, and smiled with softness. “Your father is waiting for you down in the village. You should hurry to him.”

Valena’s eyes shined and she whispered a hurried thanks, before scurrying off down the halls.

And Kallian’s brief moment of happiness fell. A sudden wish to run back to her own father, where he was waiting for her and would tell her the nightmare was all over. 

She sighed and pulled the door shut. Her hand lingered on the doorknob. There was that wish to open that stupid creaking door, perpetually crooked on its hinges and walk into her dad’s arms. The wish for him to kiss her forehead, hand her a plate of supper and tell her that he had her.

“Warden?”

Kallian jumped, and pulled her hand from the door knob like it had shocker her fingers. It was the Bann.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve checked in with the boy and Connor seems to be back to his normal self at least,” Teagan sighed. “My poor brother, his son will have to be sent to the circle once this is all over. However, we still need to talk about what to do with the blood mage. Walk with me?”

“You want to know what  _ I _ think?” Kallian was expecting a royal reaming out for what just went down. Teagan didn’t wait for her, he already started walking, so she hurried to his side. 

The bann just looked tired.

“I figure you must have seen something worthwhile in him to trust him to do that ritual. So yes, I’ll hear your opinion on the matter.”

“I don’t know. He just seemed… a bit scared, and he didn’t try and attack us when we found him in the dungeon. We were all a bt desperate, it was just better than the alternative…”

“Even still, his crimes cannot go unpunished. Do you disagree?”

They stopped outside an ornate and heavy set of doors.

“I didn’t think it was up to me or you to decide…”

He looked affronted. “What do you mean? He poisoned the Arl and he’s an admitted blood mage! Surely you think he must pay for his crimes.”

“Yeah I just - I thought that’s what the circle was for. They have templars for this stuff, right?”

“Mm, I see your point.” Teagan nodded, a finger on his pursed lips. “The matter will remain in Eamon’s hands-” he pushed open the door “-once he wakes up. Until then, I’ll keep the mage locked up here.”

“When? I thought Morrigan said she couldn’t do anything to help him in the Fade.” 

The Arl was still unconscious, deathly still on the silk adorned bed. 

“We still have the ashes. We have leads. Eamon had connections to a scholar, Brother Genitivi, who was researching the location. Only he went missing and that’s why Isolde sent the knights out. You could still find him. I know we were getting close.”

Kallian reared back a bit. “The ashes? I have darkspawn to deal with, when am I supposed to run around looking for an urn?”

“Arl Eamon is the only one who can unite Fereldan’s armies against this threat. You need him if the Blight is going to be stopped.”

“You could unite the armies. Wouldn’t the other nobles listen to you in his place?”

“I am merely a Bann. Without the Couslands, Teagan has the most influence. We need him here.”

He really wasn’t taking no for an answer. Fuck. “We’ll try,” she conceded.

Teagan nodded. “I won’t hold you up anymore. It’s been a long day for all of us and I’m sure we could all use some time to rest.”

_ Rest _ . The moment he said the word, Kallian felt every ache in her body magnify and she nodded heavily. She trudged down the corridor, allowing her mind to turn to an empty buzzing.

“Kallian!”

She jumped and turned to see Leliana.

“Who’s dying now?” she said flat-toned, dryly.

“We found someone. She’s not well. We need you,” Leliana said with a wobble in her voice.

Kallian’ brow smoothed out. “What’s going on? Is the demon back? Did Jowan-”

Leliana grabbed her elbow. “No, please, just come with me.” She was already tugging her along. “She’s just a poor girl... how she survived that - that  _ brutality _ , I don’t know.”

“Well can Morrigan help? She has more healing herbs right?”

“No. Perhaps. She won’t let any of us come near her. Well Zevran tried but... Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s an elf...” Leliana gave her a significant look. 

“No...” Kallian said with dawning dread. “ _ No _ . Maker.”

They both picked up their pace, down a stairwell and into the kitchens. Blood still streaked the floors and splattered the walls along the halls, and into the kitchen itself. The gore took on a whole new meaning now that she knew how Connor -  _ the demon _ , she corrected - tormented the inhabitants.

“Where did she go?” Leliana asked Zevran.

He stood watching the corridor with a frown on his face. “Down the hall. Third door on the left. I thought it best not to chase her.”

Kallian took a deep breath and nodded. “Someone go find Morrigan, but don’t follow me for now. I don’t want to scare her any more than she already is.” 

She knocked. It felt weird to knock. This wasn’t a neighbourly visit to someone’s home. It was a scared elven girl hiding in a pantry. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Kallian said in as soothing a voice as she could.

She pushed the door open enough that she could peer inside. And her heart broke. 

Clutching a kitchen knife in two hands, a waif of a girl braced herself against the shelves at the back of the closet. Dark hair hung in matted bloody locks around her face. Hollow deep brown eyes reflected panic and fear like what you would see in a caged wild animal. Blood smeared her face and down the front of her dress.

“D-don’t,” the girl’s voice shook as she brandished the knife. 

She was so young. How was she alive?

“I just want to help.” She chanced opening the door a bit wider, pretty sure the elf wasn’t going to bolt. “My name is Kallian. I’m a Grey Warden. I’m from the alienage in Denerim,” she said quietly. “Could you tell me your name?”

“Tabitha,” she whispered. Her eyes welled up.

“I want to help get you away from here. Is that okay, Tabitha?” Kallian slipped past the door. “Do you have a family looking for you?” 

The dam broke and Tabitha sobbed. The knife clattered against stone and she slid to the floor. “Y-no they’re... They-they... He came in and...” Her chest heaved and she started to hyperventilate. 

“I know, I know,” Kallian’s voice broke too. She reached out for this elven girl she hadn’t known for a minute. But she  _ knew _ her. She felt her pain so keenly. “It’s over,” she offered as a weak comfort. 

The damage had been done, though. And she wondered if it would ever really be over for Tabitha.

Tabitha accepted the grip on her hand. Her deep set eyes looking far away. “I pretended... I was  _ dead _ . I didn’t know if he-” her voice hitched  “-was done. I covered my face so-so they would think I was-” she broke into heavy tears as sobs wracked her chest.

The blood all over her face. Kallian thought it was her own, but there weren’t any cuts to bleed from. She had coated someone else’s blood down her face to play dead. Fucking shems. It was a demon, she reminded herself yet again.  _ But shems would just as easily violate us for sport _ . 

“They won’t hurt you again.” Kallian kneeled close to her. “We killed the demon.”

“It was a demon?” Tabitha’s tears poured silently down her face. “I thought. I wondered... how they could be so- how could anyone  _ do this _ ?”

“I don’t know...” Kallian murmured, not sure if she even heard. “Are you hurt?” Kallian asked.

Tabitha pressed her lips together. “It’s fine,” her voice cracked.

“We have a mage with us. She can help if you show me. If you’ll let her help.”

She lowered her eyes and lifted a trembling hand to her blood matted hair. Her hair parted to show the mangled over blood crusted remains of an ear. The elegant pointed shell was completely gone, hacked off.

Kallian sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. Her fist clenched and her jaw set.

“Is- is it bad?”

Kallian rolled her words around in her mouth, unable to get anything out. She wasn't sure whether a scream or a sob would erupt first. 

Tabitha ghosted her hand over her ear, afraid to touch. “Can your mage… fix them?”

“We'll do whatever we can.”

‘Whatever we can’ was all in all… not much. Tabitha wouldn't actually let the witch near her injuries - Morrigan just instructed Kallian what to do. 

“I can mend broken skin but I cannot replace what was lost,” Morrigan said with a grim face. 

“I know,” Kallian whispered. She sucked a steeling breath in through her nose. This was the end of her rope. “But what the fuck else are we supposed to do.”

“Perhaps it is not my place to say, but it might be best for the girl if we continue these discussions away from here, no?” Zevran interjected. 

“Yeah.” Bloody corpse-filled castle was not going to help her in any way. She should have already thought of that. 

Kallian crouched back down in front of Tabitha. The girl needed a bath. “Let us get you out of here.”

It was a sobering walk to the village and back. Or perhaps Kallian had reached the point of being too tired to feel things. She was just… tired. Tabitha didn’t seem to have anyone looking out for her. And Kallian hadn’t wanted her to be so desperate for work that she had to go back to that Maker-forsaken castle, or turn to worse means. She just hoped Bella would treat her good.

 

* * *

 

Nearly back to her room. Which hallway was it again? Her toes scuffed along the floor and her shoulders dropped. She spotted a coat of arms up on the wall that she recognized as the place to turn left.

“Is it you?” a young voice called to her from another bedroom behind her.

“Me? Yeah, I’m… me,” she answered dumbly. She stopped and inhaled before turning around, annoyed now at the delay before she could go sleep. “Wh-” 

It was Connor.

“Uncle said an elf helped save me.”

Fear prickled the fine hairs on her arms. An elf - not a person, an elf for entertainment to play with and hack off pieces like  _ fucking meat _ . This wasn’t the demon, but it was hard not to see him that way when it was Connor’s face the demon wore, his voice that it used. His hands that mutilated. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Kallian forced out. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth. She felt sick. A rolling feeling built in her gut that screamed at her to  _ run away! _

“He said mother saved me. Why did she have to die?” His voice was small and lost.

Her stomach turned and lurched again. She recognized that quiver in his voice too well. “I- she was a-” Kallian floundered. “She just wanted to protect you. She… did it to save you,” her voice trailed off in a hoarse whisper. Better the boy didn’t think his mother at fault. 

“Is father going to be okay?” His big eyes bore into hers.

She flinched away from his stare, as if the demon was still peering back at her from inside him. Her mouth opened with no sound. “It takes time,” she said at last. Not an outright lie, but, what was she going to do? 

“I, uh... have to go,” she said awkwardly. Then turned away and hurried out of the family’s wing of the castle. 

Her hands were trembling when she opened the door to her room.

A heavy heart weighed in her chest, and the end of it all did not feel like a victory. 

She welcomed the escape of a deep sleep.

Fang had already beaten her to the punch and was flopped on the floor, paws twitching. She stripped naked in the room, and left armour and clothes exactly where they fell at her feet. Blood wiped from her face and hands with an already dirty cloth before falling into the most welcoming bed in Thedas.

* * *

 

The afternoon fell away to evening and then to night, all while she lounged in the fade, unaware of even her dreams. She comfortably drowned in the sea of pillows, quilts and silk sheets that slid luxuriously over her skin. 

It was a gentle knock on the door that roused her from the depths. A pair of servants (already back to work?) inquiring if she needed anything.  _ Some more fucking sleep would be nice, thanks _ . 

Instead of sleep, she did have a mercifully hot bath blessed by Andraste herself. And how weird to have humans waiting on her needs! Not like there were any elves left around the castle…

Just like that her mood darkened again.

With clean skin and damp hair, Kallian got dressed and turned her attention to her growling stomach rather than dwell on the darkness.

It was a bit weird to wander freely through a castle like this, but she relished being able to poke her head - and nimble fingers - into empty rooms. Food first. Surely she could find the kitchens. 

She had just turned left when Alistair ambushed her from one side of the hall. 

He was nibbling at bits of food piled in a cloth, but his hand dropped, and face tightened when he saw her.

“I need to talk to you about what just happened.” 

At least Kallian was walking in the right direction to find food. “What?” she asked, except she had a pretty good guess.

“You let Isolde, Connor’s  _ mother _ , die. With  _ blood magic _ ,” he spoke the words like a dirty curse. 

“Connor’s alive because of that. I didn’t just call out for a sacrifice. She offered herself!” Kallian hadn’t forced a single person to do anything.

“Yes so let’s just condone sacrificing innocents and using blood magic whenever we feel like it because you got permission.”

She scoffed. “Talk about fucking innocents. Do you know what that girl went through? Can you even imagine? What all those elves went through while she did  _ nothing _ .” Kallian shook her head. “This was the only way!”

“The only-” Alistair stepped back and ran a hand down his face. “I know what happened was horrible but don’t tell me you actually sat there and thought about every option. I don’t recall seeing you hesitate.” His eyes were narrowed, lips pursed.

Her chest tightened and she folded her arms. “I can’t bel- you-” she sputtered. “Yeah, I had to act fucking fast! Did you forget about the literal demon possessed kid? I made a choice. Quickly. And I’m not letting a kid die. He was practically possessed and we saved him.”

“There could have been other ways! 

“Wha-Oh yeah right. Just take a week to go to the circle and back. I’m sure the undead would leave the village alone the whole time if we just ask nicely.”

“You just reacted. I can’t stop picturing it, over and over. Connor’s mother is dead. And his father might very well be on the way. Don’t you feel guilty at all?”

“Guilty?” Her fists dropped, trembling to contain her anger. “You don’t get to decide my fucking guilt!  I didn’t say it was bloody easy. I said it had to be done. I made a choice.”

“And I think it was the wrong one, Kallian. Blood sacrifice is  _ never _ the answer. We could have, I don’t know, contacted the circle. The mages. Asked for lyrium. There was still  _ time _ .” Alistair’s expression darkened like storm clouds. “If you can’t see any of that then…” He shook his head, looking at her with such profound disappointment.

Betrayal. From whose side it wasn’t clear. But something snapped.

“You put me in charge! If you don’t like my bloody decisions then you lead! You figure everything out! Stop looking at me like I killed a fucking baby or some shit!” Kallian retaliated rather than face the idea she might have actually been wrong. “I’m real glad you don’t wanna be king, because you’d be right shit at it.” 

She looked at him long enough just to see the hurt flash across his eyes before his head tilted downwards and she spun on her heels. She marched back to her room, annoyed that the carpets muffled her stomping. The door slam was loud. The resounding crack of wood against the door frame matched the thundering of her heart in her chest. Kallian stood in her room, chest heaving and she shrieked, whirling around and kicking her door. Fang barked in alarm, leaping off the bed and ready to attack the door too. “Fuck you!” She shouted, not caring who heard. 

And she didn’t even get any food. “Fuck!” She cursed again, slamming a palm roughly against the door. 

Her feet carried her to the bed and she flopped down with a huff. Then promptly sat up again and paced back to the door. She kicked the solid post of the corner of her bed and paced some more. Heart still racing, she threw open the door and went roaming down the hallway to burn off her burst of restless energy.

“Sodding bloody chantry idiot, fucking running his mouth. Waste of-” her muttering took her all the way to a different wing of the castle. A glint of candle light on a shiny little figurine. 

On impulse, she grabbed it. Weighed it in her hand. Metal, but not valuable. A pretty thing just to have, a smiling Andraste to look over your shoulder. She set it back down. Not worth taking either. But that didn’t mean  _ nothing _ was. 

Was’t she owed some sort of repayment? The musky books on the shelves didn’t hold her interest compared to locked drawers and fancy cabinet doors.

The heavy desk and bookshelves told her it must have been some sort of study, but she didn’t think anyone had been in for some time. There was dust across the surface of the desk. So no one would notice if she looked around.

Careful not to disturb the dust, she pulled open the drawers one after another. Nothing but papers. Something, or several somethings, rattled around when she opened the left drawer. A few coppers and a golden necklace. She pocketed the coppers and lifted the necklace up by its fine golden chain to inspect it.

Movement out of the corner of her eye. Kallian dropped her hand instinctively hiding her treasure.

“Zevran.” Kallian narrowed her eyes. “Did you follow me?” 

“Follow you? My dear, one only need to listen for the string of colourful language should they be looking for you.”

“And were you?” she prompted. “Looking for me?”

“As it so happens, I was. But I seem to have interrupted your,” he grinned knowingly, “explorations.”

She shrugged and held up the necklace to the light. “They won’t miss a few things here and there.” A small sun in cracked glass. Some sort of chantry amulet? It’d probably still pawn for a few coppers for the chain at least. 

“So what did you want?” She continued to rummage through drawers and headed over to the cabinet. “Ugh, just a bunch of maps and shit.” She shut the doors.

“Well, for something more fun than stealing trinkets, my warden. I hear there is to be a celebration at our favourite tavern tonight.”

“What? Why? How are people having a fucking party when half the town’s dead?”

Zevran idly perused through the chest of drawers before answering. “Perhaps they need a reason to remember why life is good. Drinking and company helps, so I hear.” 

Kallian smirked. “So you hear. You just hoping I’ll come along to foot the tab. Or - well, you are a Crow. Doesn’t that pay alright?” 

“If you are very good and very lucky - which I am both, of course,” he flashed another smile. “Truthfully most of the coin goes to the master of the house. “

“So you do want my coin.” Kallian sighed. “Getting piss drunk after all the shit that went down?” Alistair would hate it. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

She walked right up to the bar without offering to pick up drinks for the others, and asked Bella for her strongest liquor. Though she coughed at the burn in her throat, she ordered another dose to follow, again coughing roughly. It was strong - didn’t mean it had to be good.

Before pouring her a third, Bella leaned in. “Is the other warden coming at all? He is rather-” a blush rose to her cheeks, “Well, I hoped he might want to join us for a bit of celebration.”

Kallian’s nose wrinkled. “Nope. Only warden you’re getting is me.”

The mention of Alistair left a sour taste in her mouth. Or maybe that was just the whiskey. 

When she flopped down at the table Leliana picked out, both she and Zevran raised their eyebrows. 

“What?”

“Customarily when one is celebrating, you drink together. Or are things done differently in Ferelden?” Zevran said.

“Celebrating what? Fucking death? Getting yelled at? Lots to celebrate.” And yet Kallian waved over at Bella again putting up three fingers. “I’ll toast to that.”

“Are we going to get to see how the warden handles her liquor then?” Leliana asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Kallian scoffed. “You’ll see how fast I can down a pint.”

One became two… and two became four. 

“Not like I need his approval. Or anyone’s! Just fucking coming in here, shit’s going mad right? And you just - you act! You know?” Slamming her empty copper mug down on the table, Kallian crossed her arms as if that was that.

“Yes, I believe we’ve heard this story,” Zevran nursed his drink with mild amusement. 

It was the third time she had ranted about Alistair in the last hour and a half. 

“Oh look, music!” Leliana eagerly changed the subject. 

“Yeah not like the town got massacred. Let’s sing a song about it, yeah?”

“I think it’s good that they can still rally together after everything they’ve been through, don’t you?” 

“I guess,” Kallian shrugged. 

But the boot stomping began and a bearded man started in with a deep gravelly voice the first note of a drinking song that every red-blooded Fereldan knew.

Kallian jumped out of her seat with a whoop of enthusiasm. “Yes!” She put her hands in the air and stumbled back a second before righting herself again. “Come on!”

She yanked Leliana by the hands up out of her chair and to the center of the tavern where others were already pushing chairs and tables out of the way. 

And Kallian was first to the impromptu dance floor. She linked arms with Leliana, swinging her around in a circle. They held hands and Kallian laughed, bubbly and loud when Leliana twirled her around on the floor. Clapping and stomping joined the instruments and more voices chimed in for the chorus. 

“Another!” Kallian shouted, starting a chorus of people cheering for an encore. 

Her cheeks were coloured red and she was panting after three more jaunty songs kept her whirling around the floor, dancing with strangers as they passed from partner to partner. It was beginning to make her head spin just a little too much.

“Someone is in a good mood now,” Zevran said with a smile. 

“Wait where’s my - where’d it go?” Kallian leaned on their table, her chair missing while Leliana was slouched back in her seat fanning her face with a hand.

“My lap is always available,” Zevran grinned lecherously and scooted his chair back a foot.

A drunken grin slid into place on her features and Kallian dropped right down onto his lap. His eyebrows went up and she laughed. “You said I could sit.”

“And a fool I would be to turn down a beautiful girl in my arms,” he drawled and draped an arm over her waist.

“Beautiful, is it?” She turned to look at him, his face inches from hers. 

Zevran’s golden eyes stared back, framed by pale lashes. His irises almost seemed to flow like honey, only interrupted by the dark centers of his pupils. 

“Another round,” Bella swooped over to their table again.

“What?” Kallian swung her gaze back to the server. She hadn’t even finished the drink she in front of her.

“Everyone wants to personally thank the warden,” Leliana shouted over the noise. Her cheeks were flushed and she was smiling and tapping a foot along to the music still.

“Bottoms up, then!” Kallian tilted her tankard back, chugging what was left of it before starting on the next one. She sported a slack grin. “My cousin would kill to be a part of this. Free drinks, dancing-” She threw her arm over Zevran’s shoulder. “Hey Zev, Zev!” Finger and thumb on his chin kept his eyes on her. “Why you not dancing? Bet he doesn’t know how.” She tossed a conspiratorial wink to Leliana.

“Someone has to watch the door for assassins - I hear the rate of Crows in Ferelden is climbing these days.”

Kallian snorted and giggled. “Yeah, what a gentleman you are.”

Zevran’s palm landed on her thigh. “Perhaps I simply enjoyed the view far too much to participate,” he brazenly flirted.

His hand was warm, and her skin was already burning. Kallian found herself giggling again, leaning into him. “Lookin’ at my ass?” She wiggled her butt on his lap a bit, smile never once fading as she egged him on.

He barked out laughter. “It certainly is not a bad one to look at my dear.”

“Wanna get a closer look?” Kallian slurred against his ear. Her hand crept down his chest.

Zevran stiffened and a delighted yet sly grin crept onto his lips. “Well now. I think we know exactly how this warden handles her liquor.” And he slid her hand back out of his shirt and brushed his lips on the back of her hand. “You are full of surprises.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to my best friend and beta [Ray Murata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Murata/pseuds/Ray_Murata) for her ongoing enthusiasm and encouragement that pushed me to get this chapter done.
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait and hope to have more chapters coming soon! (Also it's my birthday so that means you have to say something nice in the comments)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr as [madamsnark](http://madamsnark.tumblr.com/)


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